


In Velvet Gloves

by frangipani



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hapes! Hapes! Hapes!, Kinda Like Jabba’s Palace Except Less Hutts and More Evening Gowns, Matriarchal society, Scheming and Sex, Surveillance, The Irony of It All, The Life and Times of Teneniel Djo’s Hapan Court, court intrigue, gross overuse of honorifics, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frangipani/pseuds/frangipani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were rumors that the Queen Mother, Teneniel Djo,  would attempt to provide the galaxy’s only Jedi Master with a Hapan wife. With close ties to the Jedi, the Queen could have the protection she needed against the assassination attempts that took her previous Jedi bodyguard. But those machinations were beyond her, and besides, they said he was celibate anyway.<br/> </p><p>Set ~12 ABY, goes a little AU during JAT and a lot AU post JAT, see notes for timeline details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dejarik Pieces

The agent bearing the name of Arica had a rather predictable profile. She was a graduate of the Terephon Royal Academy, and from there had become a highly competent member of the Royal Navy. True, she’d had the misfortune of serving under a man, but his supervising officer had confirmed the evaluation. In short, Arica seemed to have all the appropriate qualifications, and thus, the Mistress of her Excellency’s Household, Watcher of the Court-- Watcher, for short-- signed off on her joining the Queen Mother’s service without much thought. The file had already been cleared by both the Queen’s consort and the Fountain Palace’s head of security.

As was customary, a test of a candidate’s skill was arranged. The assassin would approach the Queen Mother during the Festival of Lights. If the snipers caught him before Arica, she’d be summarily dismissed.

He’d no more emerged from the crowd than Arica, rather plain-looking once one had a good look at her, had drawn out her blaster. She was a bit on the thin side for a guard, but her movement spoke of long years of training, the blaster a mere extension of her body. That was one of the skills the Queen’s Royal Guard, the _chume’doro_ , were known for. 

“On the ground!” she yelled above the gasps of onlookers, who’d scattered, far, but not too far that they’d miss the action. An assassination attempt was always an event.

The assassin didn’t blink and the shot caught him on the shoulder. Already, the other guards had arrived. Some of them subdued and started dragging the assassin away back to the prison from where he’d been recruited, the others escorted the various courtiers out.

Captain Astarta, the head of security, was seething at finding the blaster on the man, but Watcher knew that to be an act, one Astarta repeated with some variation for every candidate. Arica had moved incredibly fast.

“He was armed,” was Astarta’s acknowledgement. “You should have taken the shot.” 

“I did,” Arica replied, not without an edge to her voice. As if she were not used to being second guessed, Watcher thought. Strange for someone from a middle tier military background.

“To kill, _chume’doro_. Did they teach you nothing during training?”

Her green eyes were narrowed, but her head tipped at the title, recognizing she’d made it. Still, she compressed her lips into a tight line. 

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again. Go introduce yourself to the Queen Mother.”

And the Queen was staring at the bodyguard. Not that Watcher could see through the Queen’s veil, but she’d gone very still, as if she’d just seen a ghost. 

“Fast reflexes,” Watcher had commented to Astarta. 

In the distance, the Queen had clasped the bodyguard’s hand between both of hers, body language exuding gratitude and relief in a manner Watcher found distasteful. It was no more than a guard’s job. 

By her side, Astarta was nodding. “Faster than I expected. She’ll do well.”

\--

This had been after the Dathomiri Jedi had been found dead and the Queen Mother stopped holding court, well over two months ago.

Watcher stood with the Queen Mother’s retinue on the platform as the ship touched down at the Royal Hangar. For all the ceremony, the masses of guards -- both hers and her consort’s, and the advisers behind them, Ta'a Chume was conspicuously absent.

The idea for a new guard had been Ta'a Chume’s, the former queen and mother of the Queen’s consort. It had been her House that suggested that the Jedi’s replacement be found quickly, and placed within the Royal Guard. Their mistrust towards Jedi was widely known. In response, the Queen Mother had sent notice that she’d asked the Jedi Order for another bodyguard and would hold court only after the new Jedi’s arrival.

Holding court meant ruling, and for a sovereign queen to sequester herself could only mean that the Queen Mother was afraid. That she would rather entrust her safety to offworlders --and Jedi for that matter-- meant her suspicions were solidly on Ta'a Chume. 

This disturbed the former queen enough to come pay the Queen a visit, but the Queen Mother had barred her and her entourage from the palace. Why it had escalated to that so suddenly, no one was certain. Most of the Queen Mother’s inner court and House had rallied around her after the Jedi's murder, whispering that Ta’a Chume’s House was in decline, after all. Loss of power crippled Houses from the inside out, made Heads reckless and unstable, that was true. Watcher herself remembered seeing a page in the former queen’s retinue with contusions on her face and thinking that the former queen should see to the proper presentation of _her_ House before daring to plot against the Queen. But that had been before the days turned into weeks and the court at large began wondering if Teneniel Djo was truly that weak.

Watcher’s eye fell on the Queen Mother who was leaning her head on her consort’s shoulder as they waited for the Jedi Master to disembark. Unseemly. The court knew it was he who ruled for her. The Queen's blatant affection for him only made it more obvious.

The hatch of the ship came open and a cloaked figure strode out, pushing back his hood. The Queen Mother dashed forward, the long translucent tail of her cerulean sheath dress trailing behind her bare legs. Watcher suppressed a sigh as the group of bodyguards were forced to fan out after her, ducking into strategic positions that all but the most discerning eyes would miss. Even Watcher lost sight of them. 

Unfortunately, adding to the Royal Guard, just as enlisting another Jedi bodyguard, would have the same result. It would have been safer and simpler for the Queen to have pledged herself to Ta'a Chume, otherwise she was just as likely as her kinswoman to end up in a decorated box. There was speculation that Ta'a Chume was only biding her time for her son to produce an heir she could claim into her House. 

“ _Master_ Luke Skywalker,” the Queen Mother’s voice echoed out, still too girlish for her position. Her face was veiled with the same translucent blue fabric used for the tail of the dress, but one couldn’t fail to hear the smile in her voice. “You finally honor us with your visit.” She looked behind him into the ship. “And your fellow Jedi?”

He bowed, a bit stiffly to Watcher’s eyes. “Thank you, Queen Mother.” The pleasantries were soft spoken, but he had the well modulated voice of one who was used to speaking before an audience. 

The formal reason for the Jedi Master’s visit was the presentation of the new bodyguard, but it was the topic of payment for this that had generated talk. While the Dathomiri Jedi had been duty bound to the Queen out of their being kinswomen, the Queen Mother had little to offer the Jedi Master. They said he was uninterested in riches -- his Order was well supported by his sister’s New Republic. And despite inane chatter about the Queen’s special abilities, she was not part of the Order. In fact, having served her for close to five years now, Watcher had never seen anything to think that the Queen Mother was anything but ordinary. Had she not been, she’d have had no need to call on her Jedi kinswoman or to reach out to the one who had sent her in the first place. The nature of the Queen Mother's connection to the Jedi Master was not well known.

“It’s just me, for now,” the Jedi was saying. “I'm sorry the circumstances aren't better.”

The Queen Mother’s shoulders sagged a little, whether at the reference to her fallen guard or the absence of her new guard, Watcher couldn’t guess. Ta’a Chume would be thrilled when she found out about the absent Jedi, at any rate.

She turned and walked back towards her retinue, the Jedi falling into step beside her. 

The Chume’da stepped forward with his own greetings. “Master Skywalker, it’s been too long. We hear that you’ve done well and that your Jedi Order continues to grow.” 

Throughout, Watcher could not help thinking that for all the exploits that she had heard about the Jedi, he cut an unassuming figure. This was the famed war hero? The linchpin of the nearly defunct Jedi? He seemed a bit short and slight, hair neither short nor long, its color neither pale nor dark. A bit bland overall, especially next to the glory of the Chume’da, stunning in his tapered black pants and burgundy shirt, long pale hair pulled back in his customary low ponytail. Sometimes it seemed to Watcher that the worlds outside of Hapes had very little to offer. 

“Little by little.” The Jedi responded modestly. He looked around as if surveying the whole of the hangar. His gaze appeared to focus on somewhere off to the side and he almost smiled, but seemed to school himself. Odd.

The Chume’da was turning to the ship. “This, I did not expect though. A SoroSuub Personal Luxury Yacht 3000, right? She’s beautiful.”

The Jedi grinned, suddenly boyish. “Isn’t she?” He looked up at the craft’s snubbed nose and back at the Chume'da as if he wanted to say more.

The Chume’da’s eyes had fallen on the flame pattern painted on it. “Not what I’d imagine you flying, though. Have you had her long?”

The Jedi shook his head ruefully. “Oh, it’s, ah, not mine. I’ve borrowed it.” His expression turned distant and he seemed to scan the room more deeply. Something about his gaze was unsettling and Watcher wondered again about all those stories about Jedi. Her only experience with Jedi had been the Dathomiri witch and Watcher had never seen her do anything extraordinary. The stories said that Jedi could read minds, that they could see the future, but if that were so, the Dathomiri witch might still be alive. 

“We can discuss transports later,” the Queen Mother interrupted, pushing her waist long fishtail braid over her shoulder. “I am sure Master Skywalker wants to rest a bit and there’s the matter of the honor guard.” The Queen took hold of her consort’s arm.

Watcher gestured to the servants to attend to the Jedi’s personal things, then followed the Queen, her consort, and the honored guest from a few paces back as they walked towards the attached palace grounds.

“Will your Jedi arrive later?” the Chume’da asked. “Are they perhaps on another assignment?”

The Jedi cocked his head and lowered his voice fractionally. Watcher could still hear though, and found herself looking over her shoulder to see who else did. “Given the loss of Kirana Ti, I thought it would be best to get a sense of what the Queen Mother’s needs are.”

The Chume’da’s tone turned guarded. “Of course.”

He was aware, just as Watcher was, that uncharitable whispers said the Queen Mother could offer herself as tribute, not as herself, simple offworlder she was, but as the sovereign of Hapes with all the attendant power and influence. Of course, such a move would be tantamount to treason in some quarters. So perhaps offering a Hapan wife from one of the influential Houses was a passable substitute. But those machinations were beyond the Queen, and besides, they said the Jedi Master was celibate anyway. 

The Queen’s voice had a teasing lilt. “Well, nothing provides an introduction to Hapes like having your own honor guard.”

“Honor guard?” The Jedi shook his head. “I have no need--”

“Nonsense,” the Queen Mother waved a jeweled hand. “This is Hapes. Every guest of standing needs an honor guard.” She let out a low laugh. “If you had any hope of privacy on the way to the refresher--”

The Chume’da cleared his throat loudly enough to interrupt her, flashing her a warning look. The Queen turned her head, exasperation written in the gesture. Watcher shook her head in spite of herself.

“The Queen would be rude not to provide one,” the Chume’da continued evenly.

“It is only _proper_ , Master Skywalker,” the Queen Mother loaded the word with disdain.

The Jedi seemed resigned. “Alright then. One. I won’t have any more people than necessary in danger because of me.”

The Queen Mother nodded. “We will pick her from my own staff.” 

\--

The Queen had given the Jedi time to settle in his quarters, but sent a page not long after requesting his presence back at the palace’s gymnasium. This would give the team enough time to set up the system. Perfect.

The retinue continued to be considerable. Too much for a contest of this sort. Watcher wondered why the Queen had not dismissed the advisers at least. Maybe she had too much on her mind. Watcher really should check in with the Queen’s protocol tutor. He’d been most remiss in his lessons of late it seemed.

When the Jedi appeared, he was without his cloak, which made him look even less imposing. His plain brown tunic and pants were out of place in the finery that surrounded him.

The Queen sat at the dais at the head of the ring, where Watcher had the servants arrange the voluminous silk cushions of various dark colors, the Chume’da by her legs. Watcher stood, with the rest of the staff off to the side, their more muted uniforms a contrast with the colorful silks of the advisers and courtiers packed at the other side of the dais.

The Queen gestured to the cushion in front of her by the mat. 

The Jedi looked confused, but took the seat, arranging himself crosslegged on the cushion. He craned his neck to look towards the Queen and her consort. “I thought you would pick from your staff?”

“This is how it goes.” She snapped her fingers and the four main guards stepped out in front. Watcher noted the Jedi made as to look at them, but stopped himself.

“Hapans,” the Queen explained. “Are very much about ritual and ceremony. And you are my honored guest. It is an honor to be tasked with your protection. Something like that shouldn’t just be given away. Contests and duels are held for much less.” 

She turned her attention to the guards and the Jedi turned with her, taking them in with a measured gaze. “It is only fair that the shortest service have more to prove. Arica and Ellia, one of you will face Darina. We will save Ubris for last since she has been under Astarta the longest.” She looked at the head of security for confirmation. 

Astarta gave the Queen a nod. “Dara’ur style.” She named what Watcher knew to be a simple grappling form. “No bloodletting, no broken bones, I need you all in top form still.”

Privately, Watcher wondered if the restraint was simply to avoid showing the crowd how lethal the guards could be -- Astarta was nothing, if not shrewd. There was an excited buzz from the courtiers around them. One couldn’t blame them. Since they often aimed for invisibility, seeing the Queen Mother’s guards in action was a rare treat. A pity that the guards had dispensed with their elegant black and red uniforms to more drab, slim-fitting sleeveless two piece outfits. It diminished the theatrical quality of the display. 

Arica and Ellia bowed to the Queen, bowed to her guest, and took their positions at the mat. Watcher thought Arica looked a bit too quickly away from the Jedi. Well, that was normal. Distrust of Jedi was commonplace, after all. But all associated with the Queen Mother had their positions due to professional competence, Arica would fight for the honor regardless of her personal feelings on the matter. 

Meanwhile, the courtiers whispered, placing bets.

Ellia had only been in the service for maybe a year more than Arica, and while taller and more muscular, the differences did not stand out too much. Ellia’s hair was a more brownish shade of red to Arica’s red gold and, certainly, Ellia was far more beautiful. Both women nodded at each other, then bowed to the Astarta, the Queen, and the honored guest.

Astarta signaled the start. Ellia kicked with her right leg and Arica took the hit, grabbing the leg just below the knee, went a few paces to gain impulse, lifted and tossed her opponent down. Ellia tried to push her off with her legs, but by then Arica had a solid arm bar on her. Astarta called it in Arica’s favor. The entire bout had been faster than Watcher had anticipated. She looked towards the dais.

The Chume’da stared intently, a hand on the Queen Mother’s knee. Inappropriate. Ta'a Chume would have never allowed it. Watcher long suspected impropriety was contagious. 

But the second match had already begun, and Watcher turned her attention back to the it. This guard, Darina, was of a similar build as Ellia, but her movements were more cautious. Arica struck first this time. Darina had no trouble blocking the swing, but in doing so, she lost track of her footing. Arica swung again, more forcefully, and when Darina ducked away, slid a leg sending her sprawling. Darina grabbed Arica’s leg lightning quick and Arica rolled down with the pull. Darina managed to keep her hold and tried to trap the leg, but Arica lifted her hips and jerked it back, using her free one to kick at her opponent’s hip. Gradually, she inched her leg away from Darina’s hold, all but the heel, and in a movement to fast for Watcher to track, Arica turned to the opposite side, pushed Darina’s knee down, slid her arm under her neck, and straddled the taller woman’s hip. Her heel was out, and Arica slid her body across. Darina's neck was caught between her own shoulder and Arica’s arm in a choke hold. Darina tapped out. 

Watcher turned to Astarta in surprise. The head of security simply raised her eyebrows. 

Watcher’s eyes skittered toward the dais where the Queen Mother and her consort leaned forward as if afraid to breathe. She expected the Jedi to be a counter to that, and while not having the kind of tension the royal couple radiated, he, too, stared intently. As well as he should, Watcher couldn't help thinking, one of these women could be all that stood between him and certain death. 

There was something else to the intensity in his blue eyes. Watcher, who prided herself a better reader than most, incongruently thought it seemed to register a quiet ownership, as if he had a stake in the proceedings, but also an unshakable certainty on which way they would go. But that made no sense.

Arica gestured for time. The entire court watched breathlessly as she rubbed the sweat off her forehead and patted her hair. Like the rest of the bodyguards, her hair was pulled away from her face in a dense wrap around braid. Watcher thought she looked more like an acrobat or a dancer than a guard, and yet she’d taken down two of her cohort with relative ease. 

Despite being the object of so much scrutiny, Arica’s face did not acknowledge anyone’s gaze. Her own expression was inward focused, tight with determination.

Her opponent, Ubris, was waiting by the side of the dais. The last bodyguard was taller and heavier, and by now Arica had faced two opponents. Even though she looked fine, she had to be tired. A bruise was darkening on the side of her cheek. Watcher was sure it wasn’t the only one. So it was only logical that she would lose. 

Finally, Arica nodded to Astarta. The head of security gestured for Ubris to approach. Ubris nodded to Astarta and to Arica, she bowed to the royal couple and to the Jedi. Arica repeated the gesture, although there was something...impudent about it. 

Astarta signaled for them to begin and Ubris went on the offensive, Arica took a kick to her side, and another, she had an arm on Ubris’ bicep, and then was airborne, a leg at Ubris' side, slamming down on the mat on her upper back and using Ubris’ own body weight to bring her down. They crashed on the mat, Arica locking her left knee under Ubris’ chin and pulling her arm tight against her chest. Ubris quickly tapped out 

Watcher gaped, the whole court seemed to hold its breath. Even Ubris looked dazed. Both she and Arica stood. It had been the shortest match yet. 

Watcher couldn’t see the Queen’s face due to her veil, but she saw that the Queen’s posture had relaxed, at odds with the surprise that spread through the entire gymnasium. The Chume’da, too, looked pleased. The Jedi for his part folded his hands primly before him, previous intensity replaced by mild interest. 

The room exploded in cacophony.

In the fuss, the Queen beckoned to Arica. There was rich amusement in her voice, when she turned to the Jedi.

“Master Skywalker, it seems our Arica has won the honor.”

The bodyguard still had that impudent expression. Watcher wondered if winning had gone to her head that quickly. She was almost acting like her win was no more than she deserved. 

“So it seems,” the Jedi murmured as Arica approached, following her with his eyes and there was a brief flash of something hotly possessive for a brief second, jarring enough that Watcher looked again. But, no, all Watcher saw now was that distant regard. 

Watcher spoke first when Arica was before them, Astarta behind her. “Congratulations,” she said with a nod. 

Astarta stepped to Watcher’s side and gestured to where the other guards gathered. “Go clean up then move your belongings to Master Skywalker’s quarters.”

The Queen, violating all protocol, stood and put her hands on Arica’s shoulders before she could leave. Watcher grimaced and gestured furiously to one of the servants for a towel. 

“You were marvelous. I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like it. Even back home, Kirana Ti could climb a rancor in a jump and roll, but then again, I should have expected no less--”

The self satisfied look on Arica’s face was replaced by something like alarm. The Chume’da squeezed the Queen's arm. The Jedi stood suddenly.

“Queen Mother,” Watcher interrupted, flashing the Chume’da a pointed look at his breach of proper conduct, as she offered the Queen the towel. “Maybe you’d like me to announce the conclusion of this event and a proper recess until dinner?”

The Queen blew out a breath in a most undignified manner, wiped her hands, and gave Watcher back the towel. “Yes, please do. I will have no more need for you until then.” 

“Understood.” Watcher bowed her head. “Oh, and Arica.” The bodyguard’s head snapped in her direction. “Do go to Sinoval at some point before the dinner.” She made a mental note to contact the court’s cosmetologist to tell her the bodyguard would be coming. “It will not do to show up to a formal dinner with _that_.” She pointed to the bruise on her face. The former queen's watcher might have gotten careless, but the sitting queen's wouldn't. Someone had to uphold the protocols of the House of Djo.

Arica shook her head lightly. “That won’t be necessary. I can take care of it.”

Watcher threw her a look of disbelief. “Make sure you do as good a job as Sinoval, or I’ll send you back to him, and tell the head of security to have Ubris to take your place for the evening.” 

Arica bristled, but only said. “You won’t even know it’s there, Watcher.”

“Good.” She turned back to the Queen, her consort, and the Jedi. “If you’ll excuse me.” Watcher gestured for a servant to bring her the chimes and she called the end of the contest.

Off the corner of her eye she saw the Queen Mother making her way out of the gymnasium, alongside the Chume’da. The Jedi turned to follow, but before that his eyes sought the bodyguard. Their eyes met furtively and a small smile played on Arica's face. It could have just been triumph, _should_ have just been triumph, but it wasn't. Watcher didn't know what it was. That lasted for a second before Arica's expression was back to her usual aloofness as she joined her cohort. 

Watcher managed the clearing of the room, not quite shaking her unease. 

That, she told herself, was precisely what surveillance was for.


	2. Breaches of Protocol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.Just in case, mind the tags! I think I set up enough foreshadowing last time, but whoa, there sex while being surveilled, Batman! If this proposition squicks anyone, backbutton away. If you're looking for kink!fic, this is not quite that either (well, not on purpose). Tags have been revised accordingly. 
> 
> 2\. Writing from the id means never saying sorry for writing ks and ks of skankiness, but it does mean feeling disclaimy about the edifice holding the smut together. Plot is a thing best left to the those with talent, but alas, an edifice is sometimes necessary for common smut peddlers. I have my priorities straight though. Fingers crossed for this experiment and the inevitable moment when I write myself into a wall.

Two things were of paramount importance in court for a watcher. The first was presentation-- virtue is as the eye sees, went the proverb. The other was information. The head of security took care of the immediate threats, but it had always been a watcher’s prerogative to piece up the goings-on at court. 

She’d input the passcode into the surveillance system, waiting for the image to load on her computer terminal as she unlaced her day overgown intending to replace it with one appropriate for the dinner and went to get a glass of water.

The system was the latest from Charubah, technological capital of the Hapes Consortium, paper thin translucent sensors that worked like holocams. It had cost her a fortune, both in credits and in favors. 

Watcher sat down and focused on the image of the guest suite, thinking at first that the Jedi must not be there, the scene was so still. She finally found him, cross-legged on the divan in the sunny alcove at the far side of the room’s spacious reception area, eyes closed. Several paces from him was a table adorned with a centerpiece of cattleya orchids in a tall vase. The main entrance was a few feet away, and behind it and the table, a seating area with a couple of armchairs and a sofa. Beyond that, the wide sliding doors blocked off the sleeping area, where, naturally, Watcher had taken care to have holocams set up, as well.

There was a melodious chime as a panel in the wall beside the alcove slid open, revealing Arica.

Hapan court protocol stated the guards were to announce themselves after entering their protectee’s room. That done, they were to silently make their way to the side chamber within the sleeping area, a smaller room with a bed, a pallet, really, which would serve as their lodgings for the duration of the assignment. A guard was to have as little contact as possible with her protectee.

The Jedi had ambled barefooted from the alcove into the reception area. Watcher reminded herself that this was an offworlder, after all, and probably curious as to why his guard hadn't used the main door. Watcher was so used to the hidden doors and passageways in the Fountain Palace that they barely seemed hidden to her. This covert entrance was just part of security measures, but this would have to be explained to the Queen’s guest should he be concerned about privacy.

The door slid closed, the opening no longer visible in the wall. Arica placed a palm on the wall and there was a small beep of recognition and a keypad became outlined. She input a code, there was a confirming beep, then it all seemed to disappear leaving only the cream colored wall. The guard crossed the room and dropped her duffel bag beside the sliding doors, unaware, or more likely, ignoring the Jedi who stood adjacent to her a few paces away, still at the boundary line between the alcove and the reception area. He stopped for a second, then continued his approach. Watcher’s brow furrowed. The bodyguard hadn't even announced herself. Bad form. 

She should have at least taken her bag to her room, should have put on her uniform instead of another pair of the exercise garments. She crouched to undo the lacings of her boots and Watcher sighed. Not in the reception area. Why hadn't she dried her hair and rebraided it? She'd never seen a bodyguard be so careless. Arica removed the boots, placed them carefully by the sliding doors and looked up at the Jedi a few feet away. That bruise was looking truly abominable, but then Arica straightened up, crossed over to him in quick strides, and _pounced_ , legs wrapping around the Jedi’s waist--

And Watcher was already reaching for the comlink, spilling her glass on the console, water splashing everywhere, thinking, oh dear goddess, she’s a Ni’Korish plant, she’s going to kill him, we will have to answer to the New Republic, it will be a _disaster_.

Astarta came on the line just when Watcher realized Arica was not, in fact, trying to strangle the Jedi. Rather, her mouth had slanted on his with the kind of single minded intensity Watcher had witnessed before in the ring, except this was not inward focused at all. Her legs were around his waist and he handled the impact of her jump by bracing one hand against the table beside him. His other hand was around her waist, and he was kissing her back just as soundly, open mouthed and messy like one denied for too long.

“Yes?” Astarta barked, just as the Jedi turned and slid his bodyguard onto the table as if she weighed nothing at all. 

“N-nothing!” Watcher closed the line, a hand coming to her mouth.The bodyguard batted the centerpiece away and it fell as Watcher looked on, dismayed. That vase was probably worth three weeks of her salary alone. But the sound of it shattering never came-- halfway down it appeared to float gently to the floor behind the table.

Watcher leaned towards the display, thinking she must be going mad. On the table, the Jedi’s head was at the crook of the bodyguard’s neck. He kept one arm around her while his other charted a decidedly unchaste path from her shoulder to hip and back up, and there was nothing exploratory or hesitant about the squeeze of his hand on her breast, the grip of it on her hip. 

It was not that this wasn’t done. It was not even that the Jedi was very enthusiastically giving lie to the rumors of his ascetic inclinations. Trysts were a currency in and out of themselves, and Watcher had seen more than a few, had been part of more than a few. Just not like this. There were unspoken rules to seduction. And this, Watcher thought as the bodyguard carded her fingers through the Jedi’s hair and licked into his mouth, this was no seduction. There had been no overture, no lure.

The bodyguard’s leg was still curled around his waist and the Jedi hissed when she ground her hips against him. She straightened, leaned forward a bit, and her hands moved furiously somewhere in the vicinity of the Jedi’s tunic. The holocam’s placement at the crown moldings on the wall opposite the table meant that his body blocked the view just below the bodyguard's waist, but Watcher could guess what the guard had been up to from the thudding of the Jedi’s belt on the floor.

Arica wasn't pleased at the wide sash that remained. “Your _kriffing _clothes.”__

__Too much familiarity. Watcher thought back to the guard’s file._ _

__The Jedi shifted, leaned forward, and whispered something the sensors couldn’t catch._ _

__“Yeah? That’s nice. Take them--,” she broke off with a moan when he hitched his hips against her. “--off.”_ _

__No trips outside Hapes proper, Watcher thought. An undercover mission _would_ have made it into the file, certainly at her level of clearance. And she was absolutely positive that the Jedi had not set foot in Hapes Prime before. So if they knew each other, which was obvious -- from where?_ _

__Their mouths met again with the same kind of ferocity, the guard nipping at his lower lip. His hand at her side yanked at the waistband of her pants in a way that made Watcher wince._ _

__“Easy there,” the bodyguard panted.__

"You said take them off," he breathed, and dove for her mouth again like he couldn’t help himself. 

She broke off to push the garment past her hips. “Yeah, just going to need them later.” 

__He drew in a ragged breath, hands sliding up her thighs to her hips, as if marveling over the skin exposed. Something about his posture, the tilt of his head, told Watcher that there was probably disbelief on his face. Over what, Watcher couldn't imagine. There was nothing exceptional about the bodyguard's pants, and she'd been wearing nothing underneath them, as was customary. The bodyguard flashed him a wicked grin, right before she grabbed his tunic and pulled him back down, wrapping her legs around his._ _

__He pulled away to bend his head over her throat, hands pushing up the sleeveless black shirt over her breasts. His head moved lower yet, and the bodyguard arched into him with a gasp, eyes falling closed. His right hand fell over her other breast, palmed it now without the barrier of the clothing . She squeezed her legs around him, tilted her hips in a mute demand, and the hand slid, almost reluctantly from her breast. It trailed lower and disappeared from view just as the bodyguard let out a moan, hips bucking against him._ _

__And Watcher was terribly curious. From the rhythmic roll of the bodyguard’s hips it was unmistakeable that his hand was between the bodyguard’s legs. Her head had lolled back, but she seemed to pull awareness back to herself with effort, opening her eyes, raising herself up with her forearms._ _

__“Luke.” His given name, Watcher realized belatedly. The guard's lips stayed slightly parted, breaths coming sharp and fast._ _

__“I know." His voice was rough-hewn, the polished quality he'd had before the Queen entirely absent. He lifted his other hand to cup the side of his guard's face. “I want to see you.”_ _

__She tried to say his name again, or at least, Watcher thought she might have before it was broken up by a moan. He bent his head over her shoulder. Watcher couldn’t see, but could imagine his teeth scoring her skin as the guard jerked suddenly, face tightening into a grimace. Another moan escaped from her, longer this time, tapering off as her body went limp against the table._ _

__Not for long. As soon as the Jedi’s hand reappeared in view, the bodyguard leaned forward and grasped it at the wrist, kiss swollen mouth closing over his thumb and forefinger. He groaned, pulling his hand away and sought her again, the kiss made all the sloppier by what looked like the bodyguard’s graceless clawing at the sash of clothing at his waist. She broke away, letting out an impatient grunt, motions growing more frantic and futile._ _

__He laughed low at her struggling, teased, “Has it been that long?” but helped her, hands looping quickly behind him, until the sash pooled down on the floor._ _

__The guard didn't reply, she was too busy shoving her hands up his undertunic, uncaring about the bunching of the tabard. The Jedi shrugged it off and her head dipped forward, her hair by his shoulder. He gasped a little and the bodyguard stilled, the lean of her head making Watcher think she was staring up at him._ _

__“Cold,” he replied. “Your hair--” Her head dipped slightly, somewhere along his stomach, and he broke off with a choked cry. He pulled away, ridding himself of the undertunic, and Watcher’s eyebrows raised._ _

__The plain garments had hidden away the definition of his arms, the expanse of his back. She could see now how he’d been able to easily lift the bodyguard. Watcher found herself wondering what exactly Jedi training entailed. Certainly, not just meditation._ _

__He was fumbling with his clothing, no small feat in between trading off kisses with the guard, but he managed to kick off his pants and undergarments. Watcher saw the guard’s arm dart down, his own going after it. He captured it easily, and stepped into her pushing it back, pushing her body back with the press of his own, and took her mouth again._ _

__“Not like that,” he chided after pulling away. “It’ll be over too soon.”_ _

__The guard tried to give chase, but could only get so far with one arm pinned over her head against the table. Mild irritation passed through her features. “I don’t care.”_ _

__Watcher heard the smile in his voice. “I do.”_ _

__He leaned forward, his other hand grasping her hip. It was obvious he was pushing into her, inside of her, achingly slow, and Watcher felt a flush work itself up to the roots of her hair. Absurd, given that she had watched enough trysts to be bored with them. Something between a sigh and a whine escaped the bodyguard, and she jerked against his hold on her right arm, her free hand coming up to clutch at his back in a grip Watcher knew would leave marks._ _

__His hold didn't give and Arica moaned, the sound louder and rougher than it had been before, legs tightening around him. His hips pushed against her rhythmically, but with an unhurried, even pace. She shook her head, brought her hips up hard against him, drawing a soft grunt, and he stopped. She let out a cry in protest, opening her eyes, a kind of mindless outrage written on them. The curve of his neck told Watcher he was meeting her gaze as he repeated, in a strained voice. “Like this.” His hips moved again, dragging out another moan from her._ _

__“More.” The word was a little strangled as it fell from her lips, bookended with another moan, not quite an appeal, but well on its way._ _

“No.” The next thrusts wrested short cries from her as her back arched, eyes falling closed. He didn’t change his pace and Watcher felt her belly tighten at the thought that it wasn’t that his movements were slow, it was that there was _precision_ to them. 

__“Like this.” He let go of her wrist and his hand drifted down her body and disappeared from view._ _

__The bodyguard gasped and twisted with increasing violence through the next thrusts until she let out a moaning wail, back lifting from the table, tearing her hand from his hold and pulling his mouth to hers. The abruptness of the motion broke his careful rhythm and his next thrusts lost all finesse. He was only crashing into her then, hard and fast. The tension was gone from the guard’s body, but she shifted her hips up and tightened her legs around him, pulling him into the reach of her body. Her hand at his back slackened and slid down his arm, while her other lifted to his nape. Through it all, she gazed up at him like the world around her had fallen away. She drew a breath, and murmured his name, rapt. Her expression was so open that Watcher had to look away. Dangerous to feel so much for a man._ _

__Watcher focused on the Jedi instead. He'd covered the guard's hand on his nape with his, even as his restraint gave way, leaning forward to brace himself on the table. She saw it when his muscles locked as he pushed into her one last time, and came with a groan, falling into the bodyguard's embrace._ _

__Watcher stayed frozen on the spot. They knew each other _ _well__. The Jedi had called a woman’s name, but she couldn’t make it out... __

__He murmured something to her the sensors didn’t catch and slid off her, half leaning half lying beside her on the table. She turned her head and he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, shifted forward to press his lips against hers. When she pulled away there was a lightness to her features that Watcher knew wasn’t merely afterglow._ _

__They were lovers, and she was clearly a plant. Whose? The Queen’s?_ _

Watcher expected an endearment from the way the guard stared at him, but all she said was “This blasted table is killing my back," and sat up with a pained groan. 

__The Jedi laughed and pushed himself off, gathering her into his arms. “At least it’s well made."__

"True, I would hate to have to explain how the _honored guest's_ table collapsed." She snickered, even as she pressed her head against his neck, words coming out a bit muffled. "I'm glad you're here." 

Watcher couldn't see his expression, his back was still to the holocams, but suspected he was smiling from the teasing lilt that came into his voice. "That's all you have to say?" 

The guard cocked her head and graced him with an arched eyebrow. "You can't possibly be fishing for compliments." She made to disentangle herself from him, grinning.

He wasn't quite ready to let her go. "Fee for services rendered."

She laughed. "That lacks a bit of...imagination, no?"

She gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and he let her go, turning to see her fluidly slide down. Watcher saw her wince as she did, and an accompanying flash of worry cross the Jedi's face. The bodyguard pulled off her shirt as she went to her discarded pants and let out a hiss as she crouched to get them. The Jedi walked towards her a bit tentatively. Watcher followed his figure, cocking her head. Without the austere Jedi clothing, he was not quite as bland as she first thought, lithe instead of heavily muscled, but with well built shoulders that sloped down to a trim stomach.

__“The last kick?” he asked as she stood._ _

__“Ubris has good eyes. Got me in the same spot as Darina.”_ _

__“You could have used the Force.” There was the faintest note of reproach in his voice. Watcher zeroed in on the statement, remembering the floating vase. Jedi. Both of them. Would they know…?_ _

__“Where would the fun in that be?” The guard gave him a half smile._ _

__He seemed to speak carefully. “You’re going to take care of it?”_ _

__They certainly seemed none the wiser about being surveilled. Watcher focused back on the display._ _

__The bodyguard shook her head. “I don’t have time. I have to get ready and deal with this before dinner.” She gestured to the bruise on her face. “Otherwise Watcher will have a fit. I've had worse.” She stood up and went towards the refresher. The doors to the sleeping area were open, so Watcher didn't have to toggle to the other set of cameras. She hadn’t put a camera in the refresher, but the audio system sensors in the room had no trouble picking up the conversation._ _

__The Jedi followed her. “Watcher?” The sound of running water came on._ _

__Watcher’s eyes narrowed in concern._ _

__“The woman yelling orders.”_ _

__“Not specific enough,” he said dryly._ _

__“Tall brunette, green dress.”_ _

__Watcher turned her head towards the overgown on her bed. Blue. Offworlders really had no eye._ _

__“The one who gave you a hard time?”_ _

__“She does that to everyone. Part of the job. That's why they use the title instead of her name. So people dislike her less for it.”_ _

__It seemed like a crude oversimplification to Watcher, but not entirely without merit. The Jedi sounded skeptical. “Does that work?"__

"I don't know. I don't think anyone is gunning for her, though." 

"She's unhappy with Teneniel." 

__“Yes,” the guard answered. "But I don't get ill will, if that's what you're getting at. More like...disapproval. Did you get anything different?"_ _

__“Not really. That’s the general feeling at court, I gather.”_ _

__Both Jedi here at the Queen’s behest? Had to be._ _

__“Right again.” Her voice was arch. “Don’t do that. Teneniel and Isolder should be here soon--”_ _

Watcher’s eyes widened at the confirmation. 

__“You started it.”_ _

__“Anyway,” her voice was slightly breathless. “Everyone is unhappy with Teneniel on principle. Their fear of outsiders--it ah, muddies the water--you really need to stop--”_ _

__“And Ta’a Chume’s people?”_ _

__“I’ve--” she broke off with a gasp. “I haven’t been able to--to sense them.”_ _

__“Where?”_ _

_“Oh, _there_ \--" _

__He chuckled. “Ta’a Chume’s people?”_ _

__“Why are you stop--” The confusion changes over to outraged disbelief. “You’re not seriously debriefing me now. We can talk about that with Teneniel and Is--”_ _

__“Hey! I’m just being efficient.” Watcher heard the water power hit its highest setting. “Ow!” The violent rush of water died down, becoming normal._ _

__“Get back here.”_ _

__His voice skirted the line of petulant. “That hurt.”_ _

__She laughed, the sound buoyant, and Watcher wondered again at the distant persona of the guard. An accomplished actress. Her voice took a cajoling turn. “I could make it up to you.”_ _

"Maybe," he challenged.

__"Come find out."_ _

__There was just the sound of running water for a few beats. The Jedi's voice broke through with an undertone of disappointment. “Teneniel.”_ _

__“I know,” the guard’s voice was muffled. “She can wait.”_ _

__“She’s already here though. She knows, right? About us?”_ _

__“Yes,” the guard replied tightly. “I had to tell her.”_ _

__“We don’t have to keep it a secret, Mara.”_ _

__“We’re not having that conversation again.” Arica’s --Mara’s-- Watcher corrected herself, voice brokered no argument. “Not now.” She sighed. "I’m going to go let her in.”_ _

__Watcher made a mental note to look up the name later._ _

__“Could you get me a change of clothes before you do? I might as well finish showering while I’m here.”_ _

__Mara reappeared in the frame with her clothing in place. She quickly picked up the Jedi's discarded clothing from the floor by the table, and brought them back to the sleeping area, went through the Jedi’s bags for the clothes, ducked into the bathroom, and after leaving the clothing, surveyed the reception area for a few seconds. She closed the sliding doors, and went over to the vase on the floor beside the table, picked it up and placed it back in its original spot. After one last examination, she went to the wall and pressed her hand to a specific spot. The hidden door slid open to reveal the Queen Mother._ _

__Without the veil, the current Queen Mother looked not a whit like the queen mothers of the past. Those had been unbelievably gorgeous women. Teneniel Djo by contrast, was ordinary, homely features framed by unruly auburn hair, and a demeanor to match._ _

__She grasped her agent’s arm in a manner too familiar for her station, vaguely contrite. “Isolder will be here soon.” She made a face. “He’s stuck with the tailor. I tried to give you as much time as I could, but I know you’re due to meet with the team in a bit.”_ _

__Watcher supposed if the guard was the Queen’s agent, it could only have been Astarta who’d gotten her in. The best forgeries were always made through official means._ _

__Mara waved a hand. “It’s fine. Luke could use you and Isolder filling him in about the dinner tonight.”_ _

__The Queen nodded. “I am so glad to be rid of that veil.” She went over to the couch in the middle of the room and all but flung herself onto it. “I’m not wearing it tonight. Hiding like that sickens me. I don’t give a rancor’s ass what Watcher says.”_ _

__The Queen’s attitude did not surprise Watcher. She simply shook her head._ _

__Mara snorted. “Don’t pick battles you can’t win.”_ _

__“I’ve ceded too much ground to her.”_ _

__Mara tilted her head. “She does have a point about the court not seeing your face though. You're too easy to read.” Watcher felt her lips quirk. Then the smile left her face. How could she have failed to notice that the Queen had an offworlder agent that close to her for months?_ _

__“Court games," the Queen almost spat. "I hate it when you agree with her.” Her eyes wandered around the room and towards the direction of the sleeping quarters. “Where is he?”_ _

__“‘Fresher.”_ _

__The Queen Mother’s eyes flitted towards the refresher’s direction before moving back to Mara. “Is it different? Mating with another Jedi? Does he please you in ways other men have not?”_ _

Even knowing that she was witnessing the Queen in private with her agent, Watcher recoiled.

Mara made a noise of disapproval as she perched herself on the armrest of the couch. In the resigned tone of someone long used to repeating the statement, she said, “That is _personal_ , Teneniel.” 

The Queen continued as if she hadn’t heard Mara. “Isolder knows how to please me, he does the most amazing things with his mouth, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve never wondered--” Watcher fought the impulse to drop her head into her hands. She was going to have the Queen's protocol tutor _dismissed_. 

The sound of the doors opening interrupted her as the Jedi emerged from the sleeping area, a pouch in his hands. Watcher shook her head at yet another set of plain Jedi garments. Was he seriously intending to wear that to the Queen's formal dinner?

The Queen acknowledging him with a tip of her head and a casual smile, as if she'd just been discussing the evening menu. She stood and segued easily to “Luke, what news do you bring from my clan?” The smile vanished abruptly. “I’ve been anxious to hear about them.” 

__He offered her the pouch. “Everyone is well. Augwynne gave me this for you after the remembrance ceremony.”_ _

__The Queen’s face fell as she stood to take it. “I wish I could have been there. Kirana Ti would have deserved that much. Isolder says that with the court being as unstable as it is, it would be unwise to leave Hapes.” She took out what appeared to be a leather bracelet from the bag. Watcher couldn’t help wrinkling her nose in distaste._ _

__“Kirana Ti would have understood,” the Jedi replied gently. “Her eyes were open.”_ _

__The Queen's face hardened into an icy mask that Watcher had never seen. “Open enough for someone to slit her throat?”__

Before either the Jedi or Mara could respond, the Queen stood suddenly and went to the secret door, working the mechanism to let the Chume’da in. He came in and something in the Queen's face stopped him for a second, concern lining his handsome features. She shook her head and showed him the leather bracelet in her hands. He closed his eyes. "Kirana Ti's," was all he said. 

The Queen nodded. "Now it belongs to me." 

Watcher felt as if she'd just witnessed some strange ritual from the Queen's homeworld.

The Chume'da's hand closed around hers for a second. She allowed the hold for a few seconds before gently removed her hand from his grasp. 

He stared at her, a melancholy expression coming upon him, but shaking himself, he turned to smile at Mara. "Impressive, as usual. And you learned none of this during your Jedi training?” He looked over at the Jedi. 

__Both he and Mara seemed uncomfortable. “Not really,” Mara answered._ _

He seemed surprised at their reactions. "Well, Luke's faith is well placed, in any case," he told Mara. "Don't be surprised if your locker is flooded with tokens."

__The Queen went to her agent and leaned against her, mood back to its usual effusiveness. “I’m sure Mara was also very motivated to be reunited with her mate.”_ _

__“Teneniel.” Mara threw her a put-upon look and shook her head. “About tonight.”_ _

__“Right.” The Queen said, going to her consort who’d taken a seat on the far end of the couch and arranging herself on his lap. “According to Astarta’s initial investigation, three of the High Houses have ties to the Ni’Korish,” she said, naming the virulently anti Jedi faction the former queen's House had long supported. “It took a while to find. They’ve covered their tracks well. How deep those ties go, we do not know.”_ _

__The Chume’da's face darkened. “They’ve stonewalled the investigative branches of the Royal Guard. That in itself is suspicious, but not enough to warrant further action. Ever since Teneniel took the throne, nobles have demonstrated less and less cooperation. That would have been unheard of in my mother's time.”_ _

__“Kirana Ti had wanted to interview the Heads of the Houses in question, but we didn’t want to stir them up. We expected that the attack would be on _me_ ,” the Queen added, regret coming into her voice._ _

__The Chume’da placed a consoling hand on her arm. “We’re operating under the idea that whoever it is, he or she is biding their time and Teneniel is the final target. Mara should give us eyes on anyone moving against Teneniel, but we could Luke's probing to get a better idea of where our enemies are. This is the closest thing we have to a lead to Kirana Ti's murderer.”_ _

__“Won’t it put the Houses on the defensive to have me asking questions?” The Jedi went over to sit on the couch next to Mara. “If they’re already anti Jedi?”_ _

__The Chume’da gave him a lopsided smile. “Have you forgotten already? This is Hapes, wariness of Jedi is more the default than the exception. No, now that we’ve planted the expectation that Teneniel will try to gift you a wife, the High Houses are all expecting this and will preen accordingly regardless of their true feelings on the matter. It gives us an acceptable cover.”_ _

__Mara smirked like it amused her to no end. She dipped her head in the Jedi’s direction. “See if you can charm anything out of the Heads of Houses.”_ _

__The Jedi's brow furrowed. “Kind of an uphill battle if they are anti Jedi.”_ _

__Mara shook her head at him and continued, “They’re aware that whoever you’d pick would get Teneniel’s favor -- or rather, her favor as Queen Mother. They’re looking at this more as a business arrangement than anything else. They don’t really know Jedi here -- half the populace thinks the Force is all stories. The more inoffensive you seem, the less cause they’ll have to be skittish, and the faster they’ll let down their guard. It's not going to be hard at all. You’re good at inoffensive.”_ _

__The Jedi gave her a sideways glance. “Thanks, I think.”_ _

__The Queen nods. “Tonight, we’d like you to see what you can learn from the Head of the House of Lis.”_ _

__The Jedi grimaced. “Charm her, you said?”_ _

__Mara lifted an emphatic finger. “Inoffensively. Talk to her about the benefits of meditation. Maybe the fauna and flora of Yavin 4.”_ _

__“You mean bore her,” he corrected._ _

__“I mean, confirm what she thinks she knows about you. Then you can ask about Hapes, her House, and the Ni’Korish.” She made an offhand gesture. “‘Just out of curiosity’ -- and see what she says. It’s a business arrangement. Play it like one. Don't be surprised if she spends the whole time bragging about how many Battle Dragons her House owns. They will be trying to court you too. No matter how these nobles feel about Jedi or Teneniel, personally, everyone wants the backing of the Queen Mother's House. If it goes well enough, we'll have a better sense of the ties between the Ni'Korish and the Houses." She smiled. "And you'll end up with a token or two.”_ _

__The Jedi's head turned in the Chume' da’s direction. “Tokens?”_ _

__“Houses send gifts to show favor--interest.”_ _

__The Queen’s eyes radiated sympathy. “Hapans. Who can understand them? They play all these games when back home it was as simple as--”_ _

__“Clubbing a man over the head and dragging him into a cave?” the Chume’da supplied._ _

__The Queen appeared taken aback. “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing when I know for a fact you like--”_ _

__“I have to go,” Mara interrupted, eyes falling on the chrono. It was just below the camera's location, so her stare gave Watcher the uncomfortable impression that her gaze was being returned. Mara stood up and ruffled the Jedi’s hair before walking towards the hidden door. “I’ll be back to escort you to dinner.”_ _

__He grinned at her. “I’ll be waiting.”_ _

__“You,” she said, head snapping over to the sovereign of Hapes before placing her palm on the spot that activated the door mechanism. “Behave.” She disappeared into the passageway. The door slid closed._ _

__The Queen laughed. “Months without seeing each other.” She shook her head ruefully and cocked her head in the Jedi's direction, fixing him with an appraising gaze. She extended a hand towards the Jedi’s collar, lips curving in smug discovery. Although the cameras couldn't catch the detail, Watcher knew enough at this point to make an educated guess. “Difficult, isn't it?”_ _

__He lifted his arm, blocking hers, played it off as scratching at his temple, but shifted slightly away. The Jedi’s eyes fell on the Queen’s consort who smiled indulgently and shrugged._ _

__“House of Lis.” The Jedi said, tugging up his collar. His tone was even, but color had crept up his face. “What do I need to know?”_ _


	3. Chattering Classes

“Did you hear about the place cards? Lady Lis is dining at the Queen’s table tonight.” One of the chefs leaned forward to arrange the appetizers on the tray. 

“No, really? I thought for sure it’d be Zeciv.” The chef beside him removed a pan from the large oven in front of her.

Watcher’s head snapped in the direction of the exchange. The kitchen was a hive of activity for the dinner, and it would only get more intense throughout the evening as they approached the execution of the menu. The Queen had decided on a four course meal, which meant upwards of a thousand plates to be handed out in approximately an hour. There was still time before that, however, and while the chefs were busy, apparently not busy enough to forgo idle chat.

“Please. That would be a terrible waste. Someone like that wouldn’t know what to do with Zeciv Olanji if they gave him a hologram with detailed instructions.”

The second chef chortled. “I heard he’s from an Outer Rim planet.”

Watcher could intervene, but she’d had enough experience to know when it was necessary to allow staff to gossip casually among themselves. She cast an eye out to the Royal Chef who was overseeing the plating of another set of appetizers a few feet away. She also knew when her intervention could be seen as having a too-heavy hand. The Royal Chef had enough pressure this evening without having her disgruntle the chefs under him.

“Obviously. You have to almost feel sorry for Arica, she could have spent all this time staring at the Chume’da instead.”

“But then her locker wouldn’t be full of tokens. I heard House of Thane gave her three dawnstars.”

“You lie! With an invitation?”

“Probably. Who would give a dawnstar, let alone three without an invitation? But she’s not free until after the visit so.”

The chef laughed uproariously. “A little pining is good for the soul. So is Lady Olanji coming tonight?”

“A little eager, aren’t we? Not until the dinner-ball. Efer said he saw her apology in the listings. She’s examining her holdings in Gallinor.”

“A pity.”

More laughter. “Well, she’s coming back in time for the closing festivities. I hear there’s even a night circus planned after the last dinner-ball.”

“The pavilion in the gardens. I was wondering what they were going to use it for.” 

The voices drifted away as Watcher left the kitchens, making her way to the enormous hall where the long banquet tables had been set up. Glittering chandeliers were lit overhead, setting the room awash in soft lighting. The room looked impeccable, not one chair out of alignment. Satisfied, she turned and left the banquet chamber, crossing the hall into the slightly smaller reception area, briefly surveying the way the servants wove through the groups of brightly attired nobles, carrying serving trays of gold wine and finger foods. The reception had begun a good fifteen minutes ago. The musicians had just begun setting up in the alcoves.

“What was that earlier?” Astarta materialized beside her. 

“A mistake.”

Much as she would have liked to continue hearing the Queen and her consort’s strategy for dealing with Lady Lis, and where the Jedi might fit into them, preparations for the dinner had taken precedence. That, and her curiosity over the agent. In the few minutes she’d had before having to run to the banquet hall, she'd scanned the HoloNet for any link between the Jedi and a woman named Mara with little success. A search involving his sister and her government, however, yielded the official liaison of an organization called the Smuggler’s Alliance, a woman called Mara Jade who had resigned her position a year ago. Better yet, more cursory digging had unearthed an image of a redhead that matched Arica, if a bit thinner, with a harsher set to her features.

She could get more information if she enlisted the Royal Guard’s Investigative unit, but doing so would cross into Astarta’s territory. She wasn’t ready to fall into the Queen’s fold just yet.

Astarta’s eyes had narrowed. The woman seldom missed anything -- it was her job, after all. “Are you sure? You sounded strange.”

Watcher shook her head. 

The servants announcing the Queen and her consort’s arrival spared her any more questions. The royal couple descended the winding staircase that led to the room, drawing appreciative murmurs. The Queen Mother’s ball gown was impeccable, voluminous skirts of indigo and an embroidered strapless bodice. A choker, with one of the famed rainbow jewels from Gallinor --not jewels at all but a silicon lifeform long prized for its glow, which it attained after a maturation of thousands of years-- circled her neck. Another jewel was arranged atop her intricately styled hair in a thick diadem. She had been persuaded to wear a veil of the same color that went down to her chin. It did not cover her face entirely, leaving her eyes on display, a concession Watcher hadn’t resented too much, all things considered.

And yet, “Did you see that _thing_ she has on her wrist?”

Astarta looked. “Ah, yes.”

“Lizard leather apparently. Awful. She refused to take it off.”

“Her kinswoman’s, no?” Then, surprisingly: “ Aren’t you being too hard on her?”

She snapped her head in the head of security’s direction. “You know court is no place for a soft woman.”

Astarta didn’t answer. Watcher turned her gaze to the Chume’da, himself, just as stunning as the Queen Mother, attired in a black and indigo vest under a dark jacket all shimmering fabric. Watcher suppressed a smile, noticing how the head of security followed him with her eyes. Astarta had begun her career nearly two decades ago guarding the Chume’da, occasionally sharing his bed. She suspected that Astarta now shared _their_ bed as well, though when that happened, Watcher couldn’t say. What was certain was that Astarta was one of the few unflinchingly loyal servants of the royal couple. But that had never stopped her from agreeing with her on matters of the court, Watcher thought with mounting unease.

True to the procedure of the dinner, the servants announced the entrance of the Jedi Master, who approached the royal couple. He bowed low as protocol dictated and the Queen gestured for him to stand beside her so that proper introductions could take place.

His bodyguard, stayed several discrete paces behind, slinking back into the shadows of the room. The guard’s formal uniform was of fiery red silk, but given that the voluminous curtains of the room were the same shade and the strategic lighting of the room, the effect was less striking than it would be otherwise. The guards could blend in relatively well -- unless one was looking. From where she stood across, Watcher did not see any trace of the bruise.

Mara had caught her eye and leaned her head in inquiry. Watcher grudgingly nodded her head. She supposed self-healing was another Jedi ability. Perhaps the Dathomiri Jedi had been just a weak Jedi after all.

The royal couple went around the room introducing the Jedi to various nobles. Watcher didn’t have to wait long for the Head of House of Lis. It seemed like the news had spread fast from the way the room grew hushed when Yvette Lis appeared. An athletic figure in a vermilion gown with flange skirts, platinum combs glinting against her black hair tied back in a bun, she struck Watcher as captivating, if severe. A couple of her House ladies were at her side--cousins probably -- dresses gorgeous, but of a more muted red and less striking than their Head’s. 

“Maybe it’s not a bad match,” Watcher heard one of the nobles near her tell her companion. “Isn’t he supposed to be a military hero? Lis is as military as they come.”

"Navy?" 

" Corps of Engineering, I hear, but I think she oversees Her Majesty's shipyards now."

“Ah, well, that makes sense. Her family owns about three-quarters of it, don't they?" The speaker chuckled. "She is rather stiff. But then again, so is he.”

She approached the Queen Mother to make her greeting with a graceful curtsy. The Queen gestured to the Jedi who bowed low while Lady Lis curtsied again. Watcher sighed. He should have waited until she curtsied to bow. He smiled a bit too kindly, Watcher thought, as if Lady Lis were some fragile animal. And there, Watcher thought, was the inoffensiveness that he’d been called to project. She fought the impulse to shake her head. Such a thing could only get one so far.

Lady Lis had taken over the introductions it seemed. The distance between them spoke of subtle awkwardness. Watcher looked more closely. The Jedi had no problem meeting Lady Lis’ eyes, it was she who did seem slightly guarded. Was it his being a Jedi? Offworlder? 

The bright color of Lady Lis’ dress was a stark and unpleasant contrast to the Jedi’s homely robes. Perhaps Watcher should suggest the Queen gift her honored guest with suitable clothing for the next two events, especially, if she was to arrange a match between him and one of her Houses. 

Or seem to, Watcher reminded herself, and turned to head towards the kitchens. 

The appetizers were already out and there was a momentary lull while the reception was in full swing.The Royal Chef greeted her with, “What do you think, Mistress of the Household? The whole staff knows Lady Lis will be the Queen’s offer.” He walked towards her, wiping his hands on his apron, using her most formal title, appropriate due to his being male. “Will he bite? Her wealthiest noble for one of his Jedi bodyguards. Doesn’t sound like a bad trade. Goddess knows, House of Lis has been waiting for a chance to prove themselves loyal.”

“Oh?” Watcher’s eyebrows shot up. “But they pledged themselves to the Queen.”

The Royal Chef clucked his tongue. “Most remiss of you. You can’t have missed that they were the last to pledge themselves. I’m sure the Chume’da didn’t.”

“Really?”

“Distant cousins of his. I’m sure they wanted to see if he wouldn’t change his mind about the Queen Mother before they turned from the former queen.”

“But what use would a Jedi have for wealth?” Watcher played along. “Have you looked at him?”

“Ah, yes, I think one of my servers mentioned he’s a rather uninspiring fellow. But I heard, too, from one of the palace techs that his ship is upgraded to the teeth, not simple upgrades either. Maybe he prefers ships to women.”

“Well if a Battle Dragon or two is what he wants,” she muttered, recalling what Mara had mentioned. “House of Lis can deliver.”

The beginning of the dinner was called and the nobles began filing into the main room. Watcher walked out to oversee the Queen’s toast. The banquet tables had been arranged in a U-shape with the Queen Mother’s table at the head. She would sit at the center, her consort to her left, and the honored guest to her right. The Head of House took her seat beside the honored guest with the spirit of one meant to endure the evening, but true to her breeding, Watcher was sure this went largely unnoticed by most around her. 

The honor guards were lined a few feet behind the table. Other guards were scattered at the other end of the room as well. Astarta herself circled around the room just as Watcher did, albeit more inconspicuously. 

Watcher forced herself to do her rounds around the room to supervise as the wine glasses were served. The Queen Mother called for a toast, standing up.

“It has been said,” she began in a clear voice imbued with high spirits. “That your Queen Mother, barbarian she is, has neglected you for too long. That she has no care for her court’s soul. That she only hides herself in her apartments. I tell you now in the presence of old friends,” she smiled at the Jedi, and turned back to the court. “This, and the next nights that follow are yours. I am yours. And you _will_ have me. Drink! Be merry!” She lifted her cup, met the Chume’da’s eyes, and raised her voice. “To the glory of Hapes!”

The musicians began playing, just as the hall erupted in cries of “Ereneda!”

_She who has no equal_

There’d been just the appropriate amount of menace under the invitation. For a second, Watcher could almost believe that Teneniel Djo could rule. Then Watcher raised a hand for the Queen’s assayer to come forward and drink from her glass first. The Queen glowered at her and the moment was gone. 

Watcher looked over towards the Jedi who seemed to be scanning the room. Would he be enough to save her or merely delay the inevitable? The Jedi looked in Watcher’s direction, eyes seeming to see through her, and she looked away, setting off to the kitchens to supervise the first course’s plating.

When she came back out, Lady Lis was engaging the Jedi in polite conversation, if the project seemed rather half hearted from the way her eyes moved to the far end of the room. Their object of scrutiny was Ilan Vestas, one of the more recent arrivals at court who drank from his wine glass with studied carelessness.

Watcher did another round, eye roving around the tables as the second course was served, but her gaze was called back to Ilan. The courtesan was handsome, Hapan through and through with his green eyes and dark hair, high cheekbones and full lips. Shame he was hot tempered and jealous, all byproducts of being on the younger side for a courtesan. If the Jedi even managed to draw Lady Lis’ attention, that could have embarrassing consequences. Watcher returned to the kitchens.

“How funny that it took the visit of an ascetic to get the Queen Mother to hold the first dinner-ball in ages,” one of the servers was telling a chef.

“Ironic, isn’t it? Doesn’t seem like he would have much use for them.”

When she left the kitchens, third course was being served. To her chagrin, she saw the Jedi drawing something on a napkin, Lady Lis looking on with interest, the Chume’da leaning over as well. Only the Queen looked moderately bored, except that, while she held her goblet of water in one hand, her other was nowhere to be seen, and the Chume’da perhaps looked a touch too interested in the Jedi’s discussion with Lady Lis.

Oh, dear goddess. How long must she endure such juvenile antics? Watcher made her way over to the Queen who graced her with a glum look. The Chume’da at least had the decency to look uncomfortable when he saw Watcher approach.

“...see, but that would never work, because the system needs to be reconfigured,” Watcher caught the Jedi saying.

“Oh, and you can’t reconfigure it from the aft,” Lady Lis was looked down at the napkin's crude diagram. “Because of the wiring here.”

“Exactly.” the Jedi grinned and Lady Lis smiled, a real smile, not a court gesture. Perplexing.

“What do you want?” the Queen hissed, wrenching back Watcher’s attention back to her.

“Majesty,” Watcher said, pouring as much cordiality into her words as she could. “Given that your lava node rings were a gift from Andalia during the last Festival of Lights, wouldn’t you bestow your subjects the favor of seeing them?”

The Queen didn’t answer, but she brought her hand up from the Chume’da’s leg back up to the table. 

“Most gracious, Majesty,” Watcher said, turning back to walk around the room. 

The musicians had started playing more lively music, and she had no sooner stepped away from the Queen’s table than she heard excited murmurs. She turned to see the Queen and her consort make their way onto the ballroom floor. 

She stopped to stare, as the room did, at the Queen, her sashaying skirts, the vibrant way she laughed at something her consort said, even as she kept time. She had taken to dancing with ease, and the turns and steps she took with her consort in rhythm to the rise and fall of the music were flawless. The music ended and Watcher walked back into the kitchens where the chefs were putting the final touches on the dessert.

One of the servers dashed inside, breathless. “Mila, you must come see! The Jedi is _dancing_ with the Queen Mother!”

Watcher fixed the servant and his friend with a sharp look and spoke with all the authority of her office. “This is no common room. And you both have a job to do. I don’t care if the Selab tree itself is doing a spin on the floor, you have duties to fulfill.”

Duly chastened, the servant took up his tray of drinks and left.

Watcher glared at the friend and she grabbed her tray with measured movements.

Once they left, the Royal Chef approached. “You’re not the least bit curious?”

“I supervise enough bumbling clodhoppers to see one more for sport,” she snapped. “ And might I remind you that you have a job to do as well.” Maybe she’d spoken too harshly, but the Royal Chef was already turning away.

Watcher went back to the main room feeling a bit sheepish at her outburst. Perhaps the day had been wearing on her nerves. She did not see the Jedi immediately, but she did see that Ilan had stood and was sauntering over to Lady Lis from the other side of the room. The Jedi had apparently been in conversation with the Queen a few paces away and managed to return to Lady Lis’ side before Ilan had crossed over to her. Watcher saw the Jedi’s exchange with Lady Lis. They seemed now more at ease with one another though their interaction lacked spark. 

That didn’t stop Ilan from interrupting, rudely, from the way crimson stained Lady Lis’ cheeks as she made introductions. Ilan said something and her hand covered her mouth. The Jedi’s eyebrows simply raised. Lady Lis stood, schooling herself to a cold expression, and replied in a way that made Ilan’s pretty eyes bright with fury. Still, he made no move that necessitated either Watcher or a guard’s intervention. Lady Lis walked to the dance floor, beckoning to him like one would an unruly pet. He joined her with a defiant set to his shoulders.

Watcher looked back towards the table where the Jedi sat calmly. The bodyguard -- Mara, she reminded herself-- stepped forward and said something to the Jedi. At that moment, Lady Lis looked back at them, eye falling on the bodyguard. Ilan had just clasped her waist, but she suddenly twisted from his grasp, leaving him behind as she returned to the table in sure strides. 

Mara was about to step back into the shadows, but Lady Lis gestured to her to stay. The Head of House said something to the Jedi and his eyes widened for a second before he managed to tamp down on his surprise.

Watcher felt the need to know what had transpired like an itch under her skin. But of course, a server rushed to her. “Mistress of the Household, the dessert is ready to be served.”

Watcher hurried back to the kitchens to get the rest of the servers back in motion.

When she emerged once more, she found Lady Lis and the Jedi on the dance floor applauding the musicians. Lady Lis did not look too aggravated, so Watcher supposed the dance had gone serviceably. From the other side of the room, Ilan glared venom. 

She returned to the kitchens. The servers were bringing the dirty dishes to the dishwashing unit and involved in animated conversation. 

“...such grace that you almost forget that he’s wearing those hideous robes once the music started. It was uncanny--” the servant was telling the Royal Chef when Watcher strode back in. She stopped talking the minute her eyes fell on Watcher and turned to leave with an empty tray.

“Is this the conduct you encourage in your kitchens?” Watcher asked him when she’d left.

“Oh, relax,” he said. “The service went splendidly and we are right on schedule. Let the children have their fun. You can’t be as uninterested as you seem.”

“I am extremely interested,” Watcher replied. “But the last thing I want is for the kitchens to degrade into a gossip den while there are still plates to serve.”

“And there go the last of them, dear Mistress of the Household.” He handed her a wine glass, before making a shooing motion to the last server with a tray. “Shall we toast to a fabulous evening under your all-seeing eye?”

She flashed him an annoyed look, but took the glass. “An impudent mouth is all the more unattractive in a man.”

He smirked. “Not what I’ve been told.”

Watcher sighed and sipped from the glass. 

“Perhaps you were wrong,” he said after a moment. “With his sister so highly placed, it is to be expected that the Jedi not be as unpolished as all that.” He put the empty glass on the table. “But then you must have seen it with your own eyes. They say he dances quite well.”

“My eyes were on your staff,” she grumbled.

Another smirk. “Of course.”

He stayed silent. Watcher knew the contours of this, an exchange of information, tit for tat. “At any rate,” she offered. “Whatever he was endeavoring with Lady Lis caught the eye of Ilan Vestas.”

“You don’t say.” His servers must have told him that much. But it was the offer that counted. “Though that’s hardly proof of anything. Ilan would rage at a potted plant if it was placed too close to his Lady of the hour.”

Watcher did not hide a smile at the image.

She left just in time to see the Queen stand, the signal that the evening, or rather this part, was coming to a close. The night was early yet, and the Queen and her consort would probably entertain their closest allies in the Royal Residence’s salon until dawn. Several musicians that had departed early had only done so to set up in there.

The Queen passed a languorous hand over her consort’s shoulder. He looked at her, captured her hand in his, and stood, several nobles who made part of the inner circle gathering behind them. Lady Lis and the Jedi stood as well.

The Queen extended a hand in invitation towards Lady Lis. The woman nodded, bringing a demure hand to her lips at the privilege. The Queen then, turned to the Jedi, who smiled, brought a hand to his chest, and bowed his head in rueful regret.

But then he stretched a hand and Mara stepped from the shadows, close enough that his fingers brushed lightly across her cheek-- probably imperceptible to anyone but Watcher. Her face was a guard's careful mask. The Jedi ducked his head to Lady Lis and said something that seemed to make her smile more, if such a thing was even possible. The court lady even laughed a little, a slight blush rising on her face.

The Queen looked at her agent and court lady with the eyes of a manka cat on the prowl. She turned and linked her arm to her consort’s, resuming her walk out of the hall, nobles trailing behind them. Among the group, Lady Lis made animated conversation with the bodyguard, whose mask betrayed a certain amusement at the turn of events. Watcher noted that the court lady had fallen into step beside her almost close enough to touch her arm. 

The whole thing was so unexpected that Watcher barely registered the Queen tearing off her veil and tossing it, leaving it as a flutter of deep purple in her wake. 

“Well, that was surprising,” Watcher couldn’t help commenting to Astarta, who had appeared by her elbow. “Lady Lis leaves for the Queen’s salon with the honored guest’s bodyguard?”

Astarta made a soft snort. “Not if you knew the amount of missives she received just hours after the contest. Nothing the court loves more than shows of strength. Lady Lis enjoys her trophies like everyone else. The Jedi could not have given her a better token.”

Watcher looked as the rest of the Queen’s inner court left the hall. She patted down her gown self consciously. “Will you join them?”

Astarta shook her head. “I have a boy to talk to.” Her eyes zeroed in on Ilan’s figure. He was in conversation with another courtesan. “About courtesy and comportment.”

“Much needed.” She hesitated. "Come find me after."

Astarta nodded once and excused herself. Watcher turned...and promptly took a step back as she came face to face with the Jedi. An icy chill went down her spine and she gathered her hands together under her voluminous pagoda sleeves.

“You’re the one they call Watcher?” he asked conversationally. "The one in charge of all this?" He swept an arm out. "It's easy to forget just how much work goes into these things. Especially without the use of droids."

Watcher bowed her head. He would be sorely disappointed if he thought _she_ could be charmed. “How may I be of service?”

“I was surprised that Ta’a Chume did not attend,” he continued. “I met her when I first met the Chume’da years ago.”

Watcher pursed her lips. “Surely, Her Majesty must have told you of the tensions between her household and the former queen's.”

The Jedi betrayed neither knowledge nor ignorance of the fact. “Does the former queen bear resentments still?”

She lowered her voice a little. “Loss of power is never easily borne.” She let a bit of censure into her voice. “But this is neither the time nor place for these conversations.”

To her surprise, he looked properly chastened. “My apologies. As a foreigner, your customs are somewhat difficult to navigate." His face took on a more somber expression. "And I’ve been searching for...clarity about the loss of one of my own.” 

He seemed to wait for her reply and she groped for the most inoffensive statement she could offer. “You are hardly alone in your suspicions,” she found herself saying. “You must know this already, just as you must know that if there were evidence, then the culprit and her House would have had to answer for it.”

Maybe she had spoken too much. He asked bluntly,“Do you think Ta’a Chume is responsible?”

Had he somehow _made_ her talk? Her eyes narrowed and she proceeded with caution. “What I think is immaterial.”

He smiled light and easygoing. “I would think you would have more insight than most.”

Watcher was not fooled for an instant. She straightened to her full height. “I am the Mistress of Her Excellency’s Household. I see only what is there to be seen. I don’t traffic in insights. And now I must see to the clearing of the room.” She bowed her head. “Good evening, Master Skywalker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liberties taken with the title as with anything else.


	4. The Giving and Taking of Offense

Astarta stood up and reached for her clothing. Watcher almost envied her the ease with which she put it on, until she reached for her bevy of weapons. Watcher supposed that was somewhat analogous to the complicated bodices, laces, and skirts she herself had to wrangle into submission daily. 

Guards, though, did have their appeal, all sleek lines and animal grace. Astarta must receive dozens of missives daily. It was a happy surprise that the head of security accepted her overture.

For how pleasant it was to idle away time with Astarta, she was still curious about the Queen’s play. More than once, she’d been tempted to mention it, but doing such a thing would put _her_ into play. Should the Queen’s enemies succeed, Watcher would simply be another loyalist to be removed...unless she provided an adequate bargaining chip. Or the Queen herself might seek to use Watcher as a pawn-- she certainly had no use for her the way she did with Astarta or her agent. In that case, only what Watcher knew might be sufficient deterrent. Watcher knew better than to count on the sovereign’s goodwill or her protection. No, for the moment it would be prudent for her to bide her time until she could ensure her own survival, and how what she knew might guarantee it.

Watcher wondered if lulled by the honor of being invited to the Queen’s salon with the winner of such a public contest, perhaps Lady Lis would spill a useful piece of information. She itched to turn on the camera feed, but forced herself to watch as Astarta finished dressing.

“How did Ilan take the scolding?” Watcher asked.

“With the usual amount of grace.”

“He should be temporarily barred from court. That kind of show was unseemly.”

“He will be. For a few days at least until Lady Balina intervenes on his behalf.” His backing House. She was a distant cousin. 

Watcher nodded. “Terrible thing to be so good looking and so stupid.”

Astarta laughed. “Rest well, Irina.”

Watcher nodded. As soon as she’d left, Watcher thumbed on the display with the holocam feed.

The Jedi’s quarters were again still, he was by the window, reading from his datapad. Watcher’s eyes went to the chrono. Offworlders had a reputation for inflexibility in these matters, to barter out his lover for information was something unexpected. The loss of the Dathomiri Jedi must have struck deep.

Watcher was about to turn off the feed when the Jedi stood up suddenly. It was eerie, the chimes hadn’t gone off. Come to think of it, Watcher recalled the same thing had happened when the Queen Mother and his consort, had arrived. They’d _known_. 

“That took forever,” Mara grumbled as the wall panel slid closed.

“What’d you find?”

She went over to the coffee table in front of the sofa, shrugged off her uniform jacket and laid it on top. “Nothing of too much use. She seemed caught off guard when I mentioned the dummy corporation linked to the Ni’Korish.”

He approached her, leaving the datapad behind on the divan. “I didn’t pick up any hostility from her towards Jedi. Could be she didn’t know.”

“She’s the Head of House though.” Mara’s hands went to the thick plaits of her braided hair, carefully removing a pin. She turned around to face him. “What happens under her House is her responsibility. She gave me some names, I guess we could check them out. Doesn’t feel like there’d be much there though.”

“What about her ties to Ta’a Chume’s faction?”

“She’s distanced herself. Says she has no idea what is going on now. No deceit there either as far as I could tell. I saw you talking to Watcher.” A ghost of a smile played on Mara’s face as she placed the pin she had removed on the table. Watcher tensed. “Did she comment on the robes? I could feel her wanting to shove you at the palace tailor from across the room.”

He chuckled. “No, she found another reason to scold me.”

“Do tell.”

“The fact that I asked her if she thought Ta’a Chume was responsible. She was on edge the entire time, said we shouldn’t talk about it there.”

Mara grimaced. “Maybe it wasn’t the best moment to ask.”

“Yes, well, she’s blaring out that she’s hiding something." Watcher felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. "Although I guess after Teneniel’s stunt, it’s no wonder she was a bit high strung.” Watcher released a breath, too relieved to care about the turn in the conversation. 

“Don’t feel that sorry for her,” Mara put in, hands going back to the braid. “She called Kirana Ti’s keepsake ‘that dingy strap’ pretty much nonstop as Teneniel was getting dressed, even after she corrected her.”

The Jedi frowned. “That’s...cruel.” He shook his head. “Why would she do that?”

Mara’s lips tightened. “Because Teneniel is perceived as weak. Her grief over Kirana Ti. Her feelings for Isolder-- all of it is seen as weak. Maybe Watcher dislikes her.”

“Maybe she thinks this will toughen her up.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s charitable." 

"They have different ways of doing things here," he said. 

"Ways that got Kirana Ti killed." 

Something in her tone made him reach for her hand. "Mara." 

Mara's eyes darted up. "You told Teneniel she knew the risks." 

"Because it's true. Coming here was her choice. Just like it's our choice to be here for both of them." 

Mara stayed quiet for a long moment. "To lose good people...," she began softly. 

"Friends," he corrected gently. "To lose friends. It's never easy." 

Mara nodded. She seemed to shake herself. "Anyway, Watcher's always been on the high side of strung.” She continued undoing the thick plaits that held her hair, pulling out a couple more pins. “But that’s court for you. Everyone’s on edge. Everyone is hiding something. Watcher could be hiding anything from her being in league with Ta’a Chume to her cavorting with the Royal Chef.”

Watcher rolled her eyes. Arrogant offworlder. How she could presume to know court from a two month sojourn was really beyond the pale.

Mara placed the pins she’d removed on the table with the rest. “That’s the blasted problem. When everyone is a social climber, it’s hard to know who’s actually dangerous. Kirana Ti had been here for a year, she knew the landscape better than we do. How could anyone take her by surprise?”

The Jedi moved a bit closer, drawing out a pin from her hair. “Kirana Ti didn’t have a cover. Maybe she didn’t know more than we do.” 

“Careful,” Mara’s eyes fell on the pin in his hand. “Poison.”

The Jedi nodded, put the pin down a bit more gingerly with the rest and wove through her hair for another. “We should take the names to Ta’a Chume. See how she reacts.”

She twisted away gently to give him an approving glance. “Not bad. I was about to suggest that.”

“I’m betting her curiosity will be more than her pride.” He turned her around to pluck out another set of pins, setting them with the rest.

“Isolder is sure of it. She’ll want to hear what you have to say about Kirana Ti. She knows she’s blamed by everyone. Maybe facing you will make her paranoid enough to let something slip.” Mara turned around again with a feline grin. “You surprised me tonight.”

“I wasn’t getting anywhere with Lady Lis.” He shrugged, placing another pin on the table, playing it off, even as Watcher saw he was pleased by her acknowledgement. “Maybe I was too inoffensive for her tastes.” He smirked a little. “You on the other hand...”

She pulled out the last pin, and turned around, combing out her hair with her fingers. It was now an unruly mass of waves around her shoulders. “It’s just because of that match earlier. Hapans gravitate towards power more than anything else.” Her expression became suddenly serious. “Sometimes I think it’s the only thing they understand.”

He shook his head and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “Well, Lady Lis has excellent taste.”

She flashed him a coy look. “I hear you were just the right amount of offensive for Teneniel, though. There’s hope for you yet.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that. That was a long time ago.” He grinned at her, rogueish suddenly. “But this _is_ my first time in Hapes Prime. It’s an education.”

Mara snorted. “Have they invited you to spend the night yet?”

He groaned, previous flirtation gone, and plopped down on the couch. “Their impromptu lesson on the history of House of Lis went a little into Hapan courtship rituals. They offered a demonstration.” He made a face. “It was very awkward.”

Mara snickered. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it. After a moment, he said tentatively. “You’ve had similar offers.”

“That’s how they do things here.” She undid the ties of her her hip holster with the two silver tipped blasters and put it on the table. The shoulder holster strap of her blaster and her holdout came next. The long vibroblade in her back sheath came next. She pulled out the blades from the wrist sheaths hidden in her sleeves and set them down on top of the stash of weapons. She sat on the chair across from the sofa and pulled out the vibrodagger behind the right boot then the smaller one at the toe and placed them on the table before removing her left boot. 

He stared at her for a few minutes.

“Out with it, Skywalker,” she said without looking up, sliding the second boot off.

“You weren’t kidding about not having space for your lightsaber.”

“Hm.” Even to Watcher’s ear there was a bit of disappointment. 

“You’re...digging for something,” he attempted again, sounding genuinely confused. “But I don’t know what it -- oh.” He closed his mouth.

Her eyes skittered towards him for a second in a way that made Watcher think she would smile, but she didn’t. 

“The no underwear thing,” he asked in casual tone that sounded consciously affected to Watcher. Her eyebrows raised at it. Quick learner. “Is it all of Hapes or just security detail?”

“Cultural.” She said pulling the shirt off and the accompanying undergarment.

“Just to be clear,” he said in a tone that belied the easy way he had leaned back on the couch, the way his eyes slid over her naked body as she pushed the uniform pants down and kicked them off. “You _just_ escorted Lady Lis to Teneniel’s quarters.”

“Mm-hm. And asked a few questions.” Mara climbed up on the sofa, almost, but not quite straddling him, raised as she was on her knees. The placement of the camera meant that Watcher saw them in profile, small shadows playing below the the fall of her hair, the line of his jaw. "Why?" 

He leaned forward slightly, stopping inches from the hollow of her throat and looked up at her. “You smell like ambergris.”

She placed her hands at his shoulders and scooted back slightly to lower her head, meeting his eyes with a slow smile. “A gift given by her favorite courtesan.” 

“Oh, him? The one who made a fuss at dinner? Seems like the jealous type.”

A tilt of her head framed the remark. “She says he’s nice enough.”

He smiled. “Damned by faint praise.”

“Well, yes. He’s young, still lacks a measure of,” she seemed to weigh the word, “self-control.”

“Is that what she saw in you?” He curved a hand over her naked hip. “Or wait, what was it you said, power?” He brought his other hand to her outer thigh and slid it up until both his hands were at her hips.

“Yeah,” her voice had gone husky. “Jokes on her though. Crawled up the wrong post.”

“Did she?” He let the remark linger in the air, darkening with innuendo. Then, “Maybe you’re misinterpreting what she wanted.”

“What she wanted?”

He looked up at her and licked his lips, one of his hands moved up to caress her face and drifted past her cheek, down her jaw. Mara tipped her head back, letting his hand slide down her neck.

“To feel vulnerable at the hands of another,” he murmured. “Some people like that.”

He brought up his other hand to her shoulder. The other joined it at the opposite side. Watcher thought he would pull her down for a kiss, but he just stared up at her for a long moment before lifting a hand to her face, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. After a while, Watcher felt goose bumps rise on her arms. It didn’t seem to her that Jedi read minds, but perhaps among their kind they could. She had an uncanny feeling looking on, as if she were staring into rippling water, catching only vague patterns of light at the surface.

The Jedi leaned forward and nuzzled Mara’s neck, his palms at her upper back, a loose embrace. Watcher almost didn’t catch the next. “I love you.”

A mewling sound escaped Mara. She threaded her fingers through his hair and drew a ragged sigh, closing her eyes.

He was kissing her neck in earnest. Watcher knew from the soft sounds that broke through the silence. He stroked her cheek with his, brushed his lips across the underside of her chin, his palms sliding up to her nape, pulling her down for an open mouthed kiss. Her eyes fluttered open, heavy lidded and expectant when he was gone, but it was only to gaze up at her, expression searching. He seemed to find whatever it was because he shifted back, taking her right hand with him.

He pressed his lips to it. “Show me,” he said as if it were a response to an unspoken statement and guided her hand between her legs.

Mara huffed a laugh. Her left hand fell to his shoulder. “Months away and this is what you want?” 

“You have space to improvise.” He smiled, fingers playing along her collarbone. "Didn't you mention something about imagination?"

"Yes, you lacking it." She spread her legs more, adjusted her hand. The Jedi tsk'ed at her, fingers drifting down to her left breast, idly tracing its swell, passing over its side. She sighed, and he lowered his gaze down to the subtle motions of her hand, not so much watching as drinking her in.

Mara’s expression had shuttered as far Watcher could see from her view in profile. The Jedi must have taken in more when he looked up at her, or perhaps he'd merely wanted to draw her out, because he leaned forward and dragged his tongue over her left breast. Her gasp ripped through the silence, accompanied by a sudden lurch of her hips. She tipped forward slightly, bringing his mouth more fully on her breast, hips settling into a rhythm. Her breathing had grown louder, quicker, and when he pinched her nipple, she let out a cry that ended in a vicious curse. She clutched at his shoulder, body bent forward, eyes slipping closed, repeating the obscenity once, twice, three times, and the Jedi let out what sounded like a laugh, muffled as it was against her skin.

Her eyes held a spark of indignance when she opened them and looked down at him.

He smiled up at her, unrepentant. “That mouth of yours.” 

Mara folded her legs under her, fully straddling him. Her sudden weight pulled a grunt from him that frayed into a low groan as she pressed herself forward, body flush against his, chest to hip. Her head was along the curve of his neck, partially obscured by his face in profile, the hand at his shoulder now at the back of his head, her other hand caught between them.

She spoke, and while Watcher couldn't make out words, she could hear the cadence of Mara's voice, relentless as it rose and fell, the harsh grind of consonants occasionally coming through. Whatever she was saying made color wash across the Jedi's face, teeth worrying his lower lip. Through it all, her body moved against him, her hand still between her legs. An aching pause, a snap to her shoulders, and she went limp against him.

He barely gave her time to catch her breath, kissing her like he meant to breathe through her. The ensuing flurry of movement was clumsy, mostly because Mara kept darting away to grab at his tunic shirt. He pulled away, finally making short work of his clothing and reached for her again, she obliged for the barest of kisses, enough to surprise him with an open palmed shove. They had shifted and Mara’s back was to the holocam, a sinuous play to the muscles of her back. He caught himself on his forearms just as she sank astride him, one leg dangling off the side of the sofa. He groaned, a hand stroking up from her thigh to hip as she rolled her hips experimentally, bit by bit picking up speed. 

“My mouth what?” she asked suddenly, it sounded sharp even with the breathy quality her voice had taken.

He let out a laugh that was no more than a wheeze of air. “I love your mouth.”

She swept her hands over his stomach, down his bicep, slowing the roll of her hips, leaning forward. "Close your eyes." 

The Jedi reached to her face, pushing some strands of her hair over her shoulder, when he spoke there was a teasing lilt. "A surprise?"

"Just do it." She darted a hand towards his forehead, gently sliding it down his face. 

Once his eyes were closed, she trailed the fingers of her hand across his temple, left them there for a few seconds. Suddenly, he gasped loudly, bucking beneath her. She rose slightly and slid down, repeated the motion, and the Jedi moaned, “Mara, I can’t--”

“Don’t,” she replied. “Let it happen.”

Tension was written in the column of his neck, in the way one of his hands had fallen from her, folding over outside of the sofa in a white knuckled grip.

The fingers Mara had placed along his temple didn't move, and Watcher had the feeling that it wasn’t merely a caress, there was something very deliberate she was doing. And bizarre.

Suddenly, he cried out, hips bucking again hard enough to push her forward. Mara removed her hand to get leverage against the backrest of the sofa, quickened the tilt and roll of her hips and he gasped helplessly. She stiffened and fell forward, bracing herself with her hands on his stomach.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing in the stillness of the room. Mara shifted to lie down, pulling her leg up to curl on her side. The Jedi opened his eyes, bringing an arm over her back.

“You really are going to kill me.”

Watcher thought she saw the corner of her lips raise as if it were a private joke. 

“What was that? I thought I was going to pass out.”

She craned her head to look up at him. “Just something I learned.”

He furrowed his brow at her, lifted his head slightly. “From who?”

“Teneniel.”

“Oh?” 

She swatted at his shoulder. “Stop it. She just described it to me. I hadn’t had the opportunity to test it.” 

He tugged at her arm, all earnest eagerness. “Teach it to me?”

She snorted. “No. You’re the Master.” She arched a challenging eyebrow. “Figure it out.”

He blew out a breath in disappointment, sliding away from her to sit up, and scooped her up against his side. She let out a hiss. 

The arm at her shoulder darted away and the humor left his voice. “The side again?”

She nodded. “I’ll take care of it before bed." Irritation flitted through her features. “I would have reminded you if it was that bad.”

He lifted his hands, moving slightly away. “All right.” 

Her expression softened and she leaned against him, a concession in the gesture. “Still can’t believe you’re here.” 

He slid a tentative arm over her shoulders. “Have you given any thought about what you’re doing after?”

“Focus.” She gave him a slight poke in the ribs, looking up at him. “You just got here.” 

“It’s just...would be nice to have something to look forward to, is all. I left Kam and Tionne in charge, they’re not expecting me back for two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Disbelief clung to the edges of the exclamation. “I’m hoping we’ll be done here earlier than that given how much we're baiting the court. What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. We could go to Ithor.” He paused. “We could get married.”

“Are you proposing?” She laughed. “Get me my datapad, if we start now we can have our paperwork to Coruscant by tomorrow morning. I’ll have to have Ghent seal it though,” she said, calculating. “Midday, then.”

“I’m mentioning the _possibility_ of it. Sealed paperwork is not what I had in mind, Mara.“

She sighed and shifted away a little. “Not this again.” 

“I don’t see how all this sneaking around doesn’t bother you.” 

"I find it helpful to think of all the people _not_ trying to kill me. Have you tried that?"

"You have plenty of enemies, Mara."

"Which is exactly why I don't need yours."

"You're more than capa--"

“Were you not there when a _Sith Lord_ used your students to get to you?” Her eyes flashed. “Oh right, you weren’t, you were in a coma because he succeeded.”

His mouth formed a grim line. “You’re just going to keep rubbing my face in it, aren’t you? He did not succeed. It’s been more than a year.”

“I’m not going to be someone’s target practice on the way to you. What if Kun had known about us? How forgiving would the New Republic have been to the former Emperor’s Hand taking the Sun Crusher out on a joyride, I wonder.”

“You think I don’t think about that?” he growled.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You talk like you don’t.”

“And you talk like someone who’s afraid.”

“You could use some healthy fear, Skywalker,” she shot back.

“We can’t live like this indefinitely. You’re not that naive.”

She stayed silent.

He sighed and more gently said, “You know, it even sets a bad precedent.”

“This is new line of argument. Go public for the sake of the Order.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He stayed silent as if searching for the right words. “It’s too close to the Old Order’s way of doing things. Shunning attachment like a weakness. I’ve never liked it.”

“Attachment is a weakness,” she muttered.

“No,” he countered. “It’s how you deal with it that makes a difference. Living life thinking you can somehow keep yourself safe by not caring for anything is not living at all. How can you help anyone if you don’t understand what it means to care?”

“We’re attached, for better or worse,” she said dryly. “And you’re aware of how much I care. So that ship’s flown.”

He made a frustrated sound. “You know that’s not the point. I hate arguing with you.”

“So don’t.”

“You’re not any less of a target now that you’re here for Kirana Ti. Or when you stood with the rest of the apprentices against Kun. The same way that you weren’t any less of a target when you faced C’baoth or broke Karrde out or foiled the twin’s kidnapping ages ago. Caring means risk. And you’re fine with that. You just don’t trust _me_ to deal with the fallout and I haven’t given you any reason not to. At least be honest with yourself.” 

“The people who need to know about us do.”

“It’s not about people knowing. It’s about making a life together.”

Mara was firm. “We have a life together.”

“In fragments. Under other names, aliases, looking over our shoulders.” He paused. “Is that truly the life you want for us?” 

She turned to him. “ _This_ is the life I want. With you. The separations, keeping things under wraps-- I can live with that for this. And so can you.” 

“But I don’t want to. It’s --” He shook his head at her, suddenly sad. “You want so little.”

“Little to _you_ ,” she said sharply. She turned away from him, gaze growing distant, and to Watcher, a bit melancholy.

He closed his eyes and pulled her close. She stiffened at first, but gradually relaxed in the embrace. Bit by bit, the dark mood, too, ebbed, until she sighed, laying her hand on top of his. As if he couldn’t help himself, he added, “There is no shoe about to drop, Mara. We’re fine. Anything thrown at us we can handle together -- just like we did with C'baoth.”

It didn't seem like the right thing to say. She stiffened and moved away. "It was different then." 

"We're both stron--"

“It’s one thing for trouble to find us and another to send it an engraved invitation.” She yawned and stood. “I have to meet with the security team to go over the day early. I’m going to take another shower first.” 

Frustration passed over his features, but he just closed his eyes. Going with her change of subject he said a bit reproachfully to her back, “What is that, your second?”

She smirked at him over her shoulder and lifted a hand showing three fingers, obviously enjoying his disapproval.

He shook his head at her as she walked back into the refresher, seemed to ponder it for a couple of seconds, then made his way after her.

“You know,” he began. “A Battle Dragon might be too much, but one of those Nova-class cruisers--”

The audio sensors picked up a good natured sigh. “Skywalker--”

“No, listen to me, the way Lady Lis described them, reminded me of the _Chu’unthor_ \--something like that could be handy down the line. We’d just have to replace that useless drive system.”

“Forget about the targeting computers too. They might as well not have put any. Only four for a ship that size. What were they thinking?”

Watcher yawned as the conversation turned into a detailed back and forth on the possible refittings that could be done. How much they knew about Hapan technology made Watcher uneasy, but all things considered that was a small thing. Watcher thumbed the screen off and went to get ready for bed.


	5. Sharper Teeth

If Watcher knew her Queen, there would be no movement in the private residence until almost noon. Unfortunately, as part of the pomp of having an honored guest, increasingly elaborate entertainments had been lined up for the next evening, which meant nearly endless preparations beyond the usual ones for the evening’s dinner. The work began even when the moons were still visible in the Hapan sky. As soon as she emerged out of the staff apartments, Watcher was intercepted by the forewoman’s page on account of the recently constructed pavilion's security. The page had no more begun her list of concerns than Watcher knew it would need the head of security’s attention.

Watcher grabbed a jelly pastry from the kitchens and ate it on the way down to the far end of the palace grounds, past the pavilion, under the gymnasium, where Astarta was leading her team through drills. From familiarity, Watcher knew this to be the security team’s routine, the bodyguards would do their warm up drills, go through target practice, and the rest of the morning meeting would be devoted to discussing their tasks for the day and their strategic placements throughout the palace. 

She didn’t look for Mara, but knew she was somewhere in the back.

Astarta called for one of the other bodyguards to take over and Watcher passed her the information from the forewoman. She supervised the preparations for the Queen’s midday meal, double checked the various deliveries for refreshments for the night’s events, and went over the the guest list for the evening’s dinner. Her stomach was soon protesting that a pastry was not enough, and she grabbed what would pass for a suitable breakfast on her way to her quarters. 

Normally, she would take her morning break in the kitchens, but they were just too busy with preparations for the midday meal and the dinner. 

Watcher briefly considered not turning on the feed. She had a full day ahead of her.

She turned it on anyway and was glad, because to her surprise, the Queen Mother was sitting on the couch, her consort beside her. The Jedi sat across from them in the armchair, giving them the names of the Ni’Korish sympathizers Mara had obtained from Lady Lis, all the while studiously avoiding looking at the Queen directly. Watcher made a note of the names and checked her chrono-- it was early morning yet. While the Chume’da had his court attire, the Jedi was simply clad in his tunic shirt and pants. The Queen had a robe on, the lace of her nightdress and too much skin exposed from where it had slipped from her shoulder. Watcher was at least grateful she wasn’t prancing around naked as was her wont during early hours. A tray of sweetcakes and jelly pastries was on the coffee table with a pot of tea. Watcher grabbed one of the choc twists from her own plate.

“I should have them put in the Well,” the Queen fumed.

“We don’t know if they’re actually conspiring to do anything yet.” The Jedi reached for one of the sweetcakes.

“They’re Ni’Korish. Wanting Kirana Ti dead is default.”

“If we detain them outright though, that might rile them up. If they weren’t involved, they will be. We will certainly antagonize their friends if we don't display more than hearsay as cause. It could get politically volatile.”

The Queen turned to the Chume’da who had just spoken. “So then what, Isolder? Isn’t this what we faced with Kirana Ti? We tread lightly and what? We bear them, their hate for me in front of our faces for _politics_?”

He rubbed her arm and pulled lightly at the where the fabric had fallen over her shoulder to set it back in place. “For a while, Teneniel. We can’t act rashly.”

“For how long?” she paused suddenly as the hidden door slid open. Mara walked in carrying a cloth-wrapped package. 

The Jedi greeted her with, “I was just telling them about the names Lady Lis gave you.”

She nodded. “Did you tell them you intend to visit Ta’a Chume?”

“I was just getting to that.” His eyes drifted to the package.

She put it on the table with a lift of an eyebrow. “The honored guest’s token.” She undid the wrapping to reveal a lavender bottle scarcely larger than her palm.

The Chume’da’s brow lifted. “Alkberry? Expensive.” A faint smile played on his lips. “Sounds like House of Lis." He nodded towards the Jedi. "Good job.”

“A bit early for a drink, don't you think?” The Jedi surveyed the bottle.

The Chume’da waved a hand. “Oh, don’t be fooled by the name. It’s non-alcoholic.”

“At least it’s not jewelry.” Mara reached for a jelly pastry. 

“Aren’t kuipercakes the usual tokens when it comes to food?” The Queen asked the Chume’da.

“That wouldn’t be fitting from House of Lis.” The Chume’da shook his head at her. “Too humble for a High House.”

“I like those, though,” Mara said over a mouthful of pastry, eyes falling on the jelly smeared on her hand.

“Kuipercake?” The Jedi passed Mara a napkin.

“Who sent you kuipercakes?” the Queen asked.

“Like a crumblebun,” she said to the Jedi before turning to the Queen. “No one.” She wiped her hand and crumpled the napkin, placing it on the edge of the tray. “Astarta shared them a couple of weeks ago.”

“Ah,” the Chume’da added with a chuckle, “She gets enough tokens to start her own House.”

The Queen sighed. “She won’t accept anything from us though.”

The Chume’da shrugged. “She likes us.”

“True.” The Queen leaned over to pat Mara’s elbow sympathetically. The robe fell from her shoulder again. “I could put you in contact with the royal armorers, you could trade the gems for something more suitable.”

“I sent them all back.” Mara pulled the fabric over the Queen’s shoulder with one hand, while she went for the bottle with her other. 

The Jedi slid the bottle away and leaned back on the chair, perusing it nonchalantly. “My token, right?”

Mara scoffed. “I did all the work.” She stepped towards him and reached for it again.

He drew it back from her grasp, holding it just over his shoulder. “I facilitated.” 

“That means you get a _fraction_ of the goods.” She darted closer, but he simply shifted the bottle onto his other hand over his other shoulder. “It’s called brokering." Mara extended a hand. "Give it.” 

“Not brokering.” He smiled brightly. “Courtship.”

Mara rolled her eyes, swooping down for it again. He switched hands yet again, drawing the token away, and darted forward to swipe his index finger at a spot beside her lower lip. He brought the finger to his mouth, considering. 

“Could you pass me one of those, Isolder?” The Jedi nodded in the direction of the jelly pastries, holding the bottle still out of her reach.

Mara tilted her head, and shifted back slightly, a calculating expression on her face. 

Behind her the Queen snickered. “That’s not fair, Luke. You didn’t see how hard Mara worked Lady Lis.”

The Jedi’s head snapped in her direction, the momentary shift in attention enough for Mara snap to forward and pluck the bottle from his hands, a triumphant look on her face. 

Mara flashed a smile to the Queen who lowered her head in acknowledgement. She went for a jelly pastry that she presented to the Jedi with the flourish of a peace offering.

“Dirty,” the Jedi muttered to Mara, but accepted the pastry.

Mara brought the bottle close to her face, examining it. “What is Alkberry?” 

“It’s a kind of juice,” the Chume’da reached for a teacup at the edge of the tray. Mara passed him the bottle and he undid the top to pour some liquid out. “The berries are only available in the Ferriah Mountains on Farnica, they’re quite difficult to procure. A strong taste, if I'm remembering correctly. See if you like it.”

She tipped the cup in the Jedi’s direction with a smirk to his put upon expression and took a sip.

“Isolder, you're sure Ta'a Chume will see Luke?” 

“I’m certain of it. Mother is probably dying of curiosity. I’ll have the staff coordinate a visit this afternoon. How is it?”

“Oh, not bad.” She offered the teacup to the Jedi who sniffed it and shook his head. She put it back on the table.

“She most of all knows that if she sees Luke, he’ll be able to pull if she has anything to do with Kirana Ti’s death.” The Queen sounded concerned. “But we’ve ignored her so much she has to bite.”

“She's not likely to have forgotten her experiences with Force users. Knowing my mother, she’s probably left the details to the underlings to claim ignorance. Our best course is to find who those underlings are in order to make her answer for the crime.” The Chume'da's expression darkened. "That is, if she hasn't had them killed already."

"It's never that clean," Mara put in. "We just have to find the loose end."

"Then there's tonight to sort out," the Chume'da added, looking at the Jedi. "We will be introducing you to the Head of House of Javan and his ward. I'm afraid it will require a bit more delicacy."

Wariness came over the Jedi's features. 

"Neneida is a minor," the Queen said bluntly. "House of Javan has a male Head of House who speaks for her. He's the one who is privy to their investments."

"Why don't I just meet with him then?"

"Neneida is not that young. She'll be of age in several months. If she were not to be included in your exchange with her guardian, it would look suspicious." She smiled conspiratorially. "I am, after all, offering you a Hapan wife." 

"It should be twice as easy to bore a sixteen year old," Mara intervened helpfully. "So there's that." She thought for a second. "But not too much. And you can't ignore her and spend the whole time talking to her guardian. That would just antagonize her, which would annoy him, and the whole thing could collapse. In Hapes, she has the final say about her would-be consort. Even as a minor."

"So I have to get both a teenager and her guardian to like me." The Jedi could not keep the dismay from his voice. Mara neared and laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Lady Lis found you very likeable," she consoled. Watcher could hear amusement underneath.

"Can I just lend Mara out again?" he joked, grinning up at her.

She looked down at him, smiling back. "I can't do all your work for you." 

"Also House of Javan might be more serious about a marriage contract. Having a male Head of House makes them rather vulnerable," the Chume’da added. "If you offered the company of your guard without them asking, it could be read as a lack of seriousness about courtship. That would most certainly offend them." 

“What are Hapan sixteen year olds even interested in?" the Jedi mused, meeting Mara's eyes. “What did you like at sixteen?”

She thought for a moment. “Blaster rifles.” To his look of disbelief, she added, "You asked what I _liked_."

They both turned towards the Queen. “Climbing. In the mountains of my homeworld sometimes there's snow at the top and once you get there, you can take your clothing off and --” 

"Not a good conversation starter for underage Hapan nobility either." Mara shook her head. "Isolder?"

All three pairs of eyes turned to the Queen's consort. He cringed a little. “Sixteen? I enjoyed escaping from the Palace.”

“Oh?” The Queen leaned towards him. “To do what exactly?”

“Go to the markets, you could find things not usually --“

The Jedi went very still suddenly and his head shot in the bodyguard’s direction. “Mara.”

“Not right,” she whispered, eyes going glassy. “Something..." 

She collapsed, the Jedi catching her just before she landed on the coffee table. 

Watcher had seen this more times than she could count. In a second she had her comlink in hand and was summoning the Palace’s medical team. On the screen, the Jedi was helping Mara who was struggling to lift herself from the ground. 

The Chume’da hissed “Humlace!” going for his comlink, but the Queen Mother batted it away. She rushed to Mara’s side, pushing the table aside. The Jedi was at Mara's other side saying something, a hand at her back, but in the chaos Watcher couldn’t hear what it was. With effort, Mara shook her head and got to her feet, half leaning on the Jedi. She swayed a little, shook her head and her legs crumpled underneath her. 

“What kind of poison?” the Jedi brought Mara down to a sitting position on the floor. He had not raised his voice, but there was compelling urgency in it. “Isolder, what kind of poison?”

“It-It induces paralysis,” the Chume’da looked over at the Queen. “She’ll asphyxiate-- we have to call medical services--”

“No! We don’t know who did this.”

Mara kept shaking her head as if to clear it. “Numb.” She shut her eyes, took a breath. “Neuro... Neuro...”

“Neurotoxin. Can you isolate it?” The Jedi’s even tone stood at odds with the rigid set of his shoulders.

“No,” she gasped out. “Fast.” She gasped again as if she were short on air. He helped her lie back, placed an open palm over her sternum and closed his eyes.

“She’ll die, Teneniel!” 

"Isolder, enough!”

For a few agonizing seconds there was total silence. Then Mara pulled air convulsively, a harsh scraping sound coming from her throat, but she was pushing herself over to her stomach, crouching down and retching violently. Watcher winced at the sound and the convulsive heave of her body. The Jedi’s hands had shifted to her lower back, tension still radiating from him.

“Got it,” Mara rasped, head still bowed.

“You’re going to need to metabolize the rest of it,” the Jedi told her.

“On it," she croaked. The Queen grabbed some napkins and offered them to Mara. She took them with shaking hands, wiping at her mouth. Her face was drawn, eyes shut in intense concentration. The Jedi helped her sit up, hands at her shoulders, none of the earlier anxiety abating.

The door chime rang and the Queen shot the Chume’da a look of outrage. 

“Not my doing,” he snapped, making his way over to Mara. “The refresher.” He and the Queen helped Mara to her feet, while the Jedi reluctantly moved away as if torn.

His expression fractured, eyes growing brittle. “Mara--”

“I got it.” Her face was pale, but there was a hard set to her jaw. "Get the med team out."

The chimes sounded again and the Jedi turned to the Queen, composure seemingly restored. “What should I tell them?”

“Could you simply have them forget why they came?” she asked. “Send them away none the wiser?”

His eyes flitted towards Mara as the Chume'da helped her past the sliding doors. “I’d rather not.”

The Queen nodded. “Explain nothing then. Say their services are not needed.” She followed Mara and the Chume'da.

The chimes sounded again and the Jedi went to the door. Watcher looked on as he sent the baffled medical personnel away. But they’d scarcely left than the chimes sounded again. The Jedi opened and Astarta’s uniformed figure walked in.

“Medical services sent summons. Poison?” 

The Jedi hesitated before nodding. “Humlace.”

The Queen and her consort stepped from behind the sliding doors. The sound of running water came through the sensors. 

Astarta peered behind them. “Mara?”

“She’ll be fine,” the Queen said.

“Ereneda,” Astarta said, using the ritual name for emphasis. “Humlace poison can be lethal. Mara should be looked at.”

“She is a Jedi. And not knowing who sent the poison, the last thing I need is to send confirmation that we were careless. I never expected--” 

“Was it meant for Master Skywalker?”

The Queen shared a look with her consort and the Jedi. 

It was the Jedi who answered, “We should assume it was.” 

The Queen nodded. “It had to have been House of Lis’ token. Had it been for Mara it would have been sent to her locker. There are no signs that her cover has been blown.”

Astarta nodded. “Lady Lis will be detained on the hour. Should she be questioned in the Well?”

The Chume’da’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Lis lacks the nerve for something this blatant. No. Bring her to court. Treat her kindly and see what song she’ll sing for us first.”

“Bringing her to court will mean prying eyes and wagging tongues,” Astarta warned. “We may not be able to control what information seeps out.”

“I’m going to check on Mara,” the Jedi interrupted.

“The usual foolishness will drown out the truth for a while.” The Queen stared as the Jedi went past the sliding doors. "But work fast."

The Chume’da followed her gaze and lowered his voice. “Will he go see Mother?”

“I’m almost certain of it,” the Queen murmured, making her way to the wall panel. “But confirm later.”

From the audio sensors, Watcher heard a light knock on the door to the refresher.

“What about Mara?” Astarta asked. The Queen waved for the Chume’da to go ahead of her.

“She’ll show up at court once she can.” 

For once, Astarta’s face showed some surprise. “Today?” 

The Queen's eyes were on the sliding doors. “She won't want to be anywhere else.”

She turned and the wall panel slid shut. Astarta looked after her for a second. After a quick glance towards the closed sliding doors, she exited through the main entrance. Watcher heard the refresher door open.

The water in the sink had been turned off. Mara’s voice came through the sensors, hoarse, but much stronger than before. “You need to be at court with Tenen--” she broke off suddenly and when her voice came back it was a bit muffled. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s not--it’s not even that hard a poison to metabolize once you’re out of the respiratory system shut down. Thanks for that-- I couldn’t get enough focus for it. I should have. It just--it just caught me off guard. I was so stupid. It’s just too obvious -- I’ll be okay in an hour or so. I’m fine.” There was a pause. “I’m fine. Are you listening to me? I'm fine.”

There was no response until a shuffle of movement broke the silence. 

“You have vomit on your sleeve, Luke. Go change.”

“Later.” The Jedi’s voice was soft enough that Watcher had to strain to hear it. 

“You are not sitting there and staring at me while I work.”

“You did a lot of sitting and staring I was told.”

“There were literal _Sithspawn_ coming after you and you were in a coma. At least grab your datapad.”

“I’m good.” After a few seconds he ventured tentatively, “Can I--”

“You’re not looking over my shoulder while I work,” she snapped. “Or doing it for me.”

“I just want to sit with you.”

“Oh.” Her tone was mild, verging on apologetic when she replied, “Okay, just take that off? Okay.” There were more shuffling sounds. Her voice was tinged with humor when she spoke again. “Are you sure? I’m going to be here a while. Won’t your legs get numb?” 

More scuffling sounds. “There,” he said. “Comfortable?”

“Mm-hm.” Mara’s voice was as gentle as Watcher’s ever heard it. “Hey -- I’m okay. Really,” she repeated. “It’s okay.”

The Jedi’s voice was light. Deceptively so, Watcher thought. “Less talking. More healing.”

There was only silence, both from the sensors and Watcher’s room. Her comlink sounded, startling her, and her eyes landed on her half-eaten breakfast. She reached for the device with a sigh.

\--

Hours after splitting her attention between the forewoman’s demands in the gardens and the bustle of the kitchens, Watcher got word that the Queen had finally emerged from her quarters to hold court in one of the lower halls.

Watcher hadn't had time to supervise the Queen as she dressed, so she was surprised, not by the thin red silk dress with gold embroidered flowers she wore -- it had been a satisfactory selection, if a bit brash for a late morning court -- but by the red veil attached to the thin golden diadem on her forehead that covered her whole face, falling just past her shoulders. She would have expected no concessions to custom from the Queen given the morning's events.

The entire hall buzzed with the news that medical personnel had been sent to the Jedi’s quarters and turned away. An assassination attempt towards the Jedi Master, went the speculation at court. The Queen and her consort faked obliviousness to the stories that floated about and busied themselves introducing the Jedi to some of the courtiers of the lower Houses. Watcher had looked, but Mara was nowhere to be found. Would she still be convalescing? Had she taken a turn for the worse? Trying to discern her status from the Jedi's demeanor was a useless exercise. All the distress Watcher seen earlier had vanished into a blank, unnerving calm. If anything, it was the Queen's consort who appeared beset by a vague tension, eyes skittering across the hall, his distraction making his rapport with the Queen a bit less warm than usual.

“The Jedi doesn’t look like a man who just survived an assassination attempt,” one of the courtesans murmured to his companion, jarring Watcher from her thoughts.

“Jedi are not like us,” Watcher heard her whisper back. “For all we know he could have made the assassin take their own life before they got in shooting range. Maybe they can do that. They say they can see the future.”

Watcher suppressed a shudder, remembering the Queen Mother’s request, and thanking the goddess that her comm had been through an encrypted frequency. Not as much protection as she would want, but she was counting on the Queen’s preoccupation with other matters to see her through. She should have not commed. What foolishness had come over her? She had amassed enough information to cut her losses. If the Queen's agent was to perish that was no business of hers, and now she had the additional worry of being found out.

By the time the Queen called for a recess while she took her early afternoon meal, Watcher found herself taking her own plate back to her quarters. If she had been found out, she _must_ know. Once the image loaded she could find no trace of Mara, perhaps in the refresher? The room was immaculate. Had she left before the servants came? She must have. Watcher ate quickly, unsure of when she'd be called back to court.

On the screen, the Chume’da and the the Jedi stood by the windows, mid-conversation, distracting Watcher from her speculation.

The Jedi was shaking his head. “She’s more than capable of fending for herself.” He hesitated. “As is Teneniel.”

The Chume’da’s eyes narrowed and his tone became guarded. “This is about what we discussed.”

He nodded. “Have you thought,” the Jedi began with care. “That perhaps it might be time for Teneniel to fight her own battles. The situation at court, you’re handling it on your terms, subterfuge and--”

“This is how things are done here," the Chume'da interrupted with unusual sharpness.

“Yes, but isn’t the problem that Teneniel is perceived as weak?”

“I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

“In my talk with Lady Lis, it came out that the court doesn’t believe Teneniel is actually Force sensitive.”

The Chume'da waved a hand. “Oh, that is strategic. It is to our advantage that Teneniel’s gifts be concealed. Should someone ever be in a position to strike, the element of surprise would be an asset.”

“That’s not how it works, Isolder.”

“What?”

“Abilities in the Force atrophy when they are not used. Mara tells me Teneniel has rejected her offers to train her.”

“Training would be difficult to hide here. Teneniel is rarely alone.”

“Is that really why?“

The Chume’da’s voice went cold. “Suggestion doesn’t work for you, Master Skywalker." Watcher was taken aback by the use of the title outside of court. "Please be direct.”

“One thing Hapans understand is strength. It’s what brought Teneniel here in the first place. Instead of skirting her heritage and trying to groom her to be what she’s not, perhaps it’s time to help her fight her battles on her own terms. Show her as she is to court. Give her the tools to protect herself in her own way.”

“And let it be known without a doubt that she has Force abilities?” The Chume’da's face took on an incredulous expression. He scoffed. “That would just bring more enemies to our door. It will put her in harm’s way all the more.”

The Jedi's word's felt like a rebuke to Watcher, but the tone seemed almost cajoling. “If you didn’t trust her to be up to the task, you shouldn’t have brought her here.”

The Chume’da shook his head. “Teneniel can’t be a Jedi.”

“That wasn’t Mara’s offer. She knows Teneniel has obligations. It's a matter of refining her abilities to make them suited to the task ahead of her.” The Jedi sighed. “I’m not going to lie and say this won’t result in enemies once the court learns of it, but it could also result in less distrust in the long run. Or were you planning to also discourage any children you might have from using their gifts as well?”

The Chume'da’s expression grew stormy. “A girl, you said. And nothing. Nothing to solidify our House while our enemies gather. I wonder about the Force if it should be wrong about something like that.”

“The future is always in motion. But accepting the status quo, this suspicion of Force sensitives, will take its toll both on Teneniel and her heirs. And on you.”

“So you suggest making a martyr out of her.”

“No, I’m suggesting she show herself as a warrior. That’s who Teneniel is.”

“That’s what she _was_. In Dathomir. Not here. Hapes will kill her.” He looked away. “I won't lose her.”

“If you keep forcing her to hide, someday you’ll wake up and find you already have. Mara and I will help you both through this. We want justice for Kirana Ti, too, but Teneniel's protection in court should be in her own hands." There was a ring of finality in his words. "I’m sorry, Isolder, but I don’t feel comfortable sending another Jedi to take Kirana Ti's place.”

The Chume'da stayed silent for a long moment. “You would abandon her," he finally said. "Have you grown that cold since we last met?”

An undertone of impatience came into the Jedi's voice. “Isolder, there are not enough trained Jedi for the demands we have--Mara herself has commitments elsewhere. She’s only here because Kirana Ti was a friend. And it’s not that you lack the means to protect yourselves, it’s that you won’t use them out of fear. Teneniel's gift could not only serve her, it could serve all of Hapes. She could leave a lasting legacy.”

“We will reach out to Teneniel’s kinfolk then.”

“You could," the Jedi conceded. "But more bodyguards are not the answer.”

"Making her a target is," the Chume'da muttered darkly.

"No, it's letting her fight her own battles. Trusting her to be capable of it."

"It's different here. She wouldn't know how."

The Jedi cocked his head. "Then trusting her to recognize that and to ask for help when she needs it."

The Chume'da didn't respond for a long moment. The door chime broke the silence.

He spoke suddenly, "I do hope you're not suggesting that I am somehow forcing Teneniel to do or not do anything. Let me remind you, this is Hapes."

The Jedi shook his head at him as he went to get the door. "It's never that simple with loved ones."

At that moment, Watcher’s comlink sounded, summoning her back to court. 

The display showed a page rushing into the room to announce the transport sent for the Jedi to Ta’a Chume’s residence. The Jedi bowed lightly to the Chume'da before turning to follow the page out.

Watcher thumbed the screen off and set out towards the hall.

\--

A rush of voices greeted Watcher as she walked into the tumult of the hall. It took her some time to make her way towards the Queen. She caught bits of conversation as she wove through the crowd.

"A poisoning!" 

"The assassination attempt was true!" 

"Where is the Jedi?" 

"He was seen leaving to the former queen's grounds." 

"No doubt to exact his vengeance. Ta'a Chume must be behind it." 

By the time Watcher had arrived to the corner where the Queen's personal staff gathered, the Chume'da had arrived and was taking his seat beside the Queen. At her other side was Astarta. In the middle of the hall, Watcher expected the proud figure of Lady Lis, a guard at her elbow. 

Not so. 

Before her, one of the members of the royal guard’s investigative unit stood beside a cuffed and kneeling Ilan Vestas. Lady Lis was off to the side with the crowd, a schooled expression of aloofness on her face, her hands clasped in front of her pale blue dress. Watcher gasped a little.

While the most famous saying in Hapes was “Do not let a man think himself the intellectual equal to a woman, it only leads him to evil,” Watcher thought of another: “A scorned man has sharper teeth than a melesi serpent.” She'd been right about Ilan Vestas after all, but how...?

"Let us begin," Astarta said, bowing to the royal couple. "Ilan--" 

The Queen's posture exuded barely controlled fury as she interrupted, “You dare to attack an honored guest in my own home?” 

Ilan shook his head as he prostrated himself before her. “Not the honored guest. I wouldn’t dream to visit such disrespect on you, Ereneda.”

“You sent poison under the auspicies of House of Lis to my guest's quarters. And now you lie to my face?” She stood up. The Chume'da reached to touch her arm.

“Mercy, Ereneda,” Ilan stammered. “I am telling the truth! It--It was my heart that led me astray. Seeing one’s beloved go with another is cause for madness. Death seems preferable in that moment.”

“And believe me, I am tempted to dispense just that,” the Queen shot back, shaking the Chume'da's hand off and sitting down again. “You know the customs as well as anyone here. If you had quarrel with anyone, then your best recourse was a call for an honor duel.”

“Yes,” Ilan looked up. “But would the Queen allow this with a member of her guard?”

The crowd gasped again and the room became deathly silent.

The Queen leaned forward, her bracelets clinking with the sudden movement. “You mean to say you meant to hurt one of my guards? Which?" He didn't answer, but it was obvious enough. "Arica?”

“It was madness. Your mercy!”

Watcher could imagine the Queen's eyes narrowing. "How could this be when the token was given to take to the honored guest?"

Ilan's voice was tremulous. "It was never meant for the honored guest. I swear it."

"Then why was it not sent to Arica's lockers?" It was Astarta who asked.

Ilan paused. "Humlace," he said in a small voice. "Is most effective when it consumed in a short window after its preparation. The guard was already on her way to her quarters."

The Queen Mother lifted her head. “Of course, I would have allowed an honor duel. In fact, I would have vastly preferred it over cowardly antics.” She snapped a finger and the court gasped again when Mara stepped forward, no trace of the agony of the morning, hands folded behind her back, face eerily impassive. 

Ilan’s eyes moved from the Queen to Mara. He paled.

“At the very least it would be _entertaining_. Do you wish it still?” the Queen asked, resting her chin on her hand. The Chume'da's eyes widened and he placed a hand on her arm. The Queen's head snapped in his direction and he drew the hand away.

Ilan swallowed and shook his head. “I only wish your understanding and mercy, Ereneda.”

“I have no patience for displays of cowardice, but even death is more than you deserve. Jail him." The Queen put her hands on the armrests of her chair. "For now."

“Ereneda--” The guard beside him squeezed hard between his neck and shoulder and he yelped. 

“Quiet!” The guard shushed him. Two more guards approached to drag him out.

The Queen turned to Astarta imperiously. "Let the honored guest decide his punishment."


	6. Temperance and Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are back! Generally, counting on 9 chapters and a bonus (don't quote me on this) so, hey, more than halfway.  
> Many thanks for hanging in there. Probably plotholes up the wazoo, but none of us are here for that anyway, right? Right.  
> 

“They better keep them in the pavilion. I won’t have rancors contaminating my gardens with their filth.”

Watcher quickened her steps. “Yes, well, the beastmaster knows how you feel,” she said to the groundskeeper whose face contorted in disgust. “I don’t think you’ll have any problems.”

The groundskeeper kept pace with her, still aghast at the memory. “She insisted on riding one last time!”

“That was four years ago,” Watcher reminded her. This really was not the time. “And it was the Chume’da’s birthday present to have them and their riders brought from her homeworld.”

The groundskeeper sniffed. “Those foul things trampled the rosalettes. I had to have them replanted and the droppings--”

“Ovidia, we all know where you stand.” Watcher let a note of exasperation creep into her voice. “Your concerns have been passed to the beastmaster.”

“Could they not have just hired dancers and acrobats like the former queen did for her festivities?”

Watcher stopped walking suddenly and faced the woman. Talk like that from her to Astarta was one thing, it was another from one of her staff. “It would almost seem that you’ve forgotten that it is our pleasure to serve the Queen in whatever way she sees fit. You are welcome to cede your position to someone in your staff if you find yourself burdened with too many concerns.”

The groundskeeper's mouth fell closed. “Of course not, Watcher. I’m grateful you’ll speak to the beastmaster on my behalf. I should return to the gardens.”

Watcher nodded. 

Dinner service had just started and while it was not as lavish an affair as the previous evening, the High Houses again were in attendance. Watcher wasn’t about to risk dinner being anything but flawless. 

She walked in just in time to see the Queen Mother absentmindedly pluck a dumpling from her consort’s plate with her fingers.

At least she hadn’t wiped her hands on the dress and she was wearing a veil -- black tonight, uncharacteristically severe. All the same, the Queen had finished two plates already, and compliments to the chef or not, perhaps some words on self-restraint were in order -- before she did manage to forget herself and ruin the green empire waist dress with shimmering skirts she'd decided on for the dinner. And yet, Watcher recalled the Queen's fury with Ilan Vestas just a few hours before. Her anger had even fallen on her consort, most unusual. Watcher wasn't certain, but she thought she could discern a cool distance between royal couple that hadn't been there previously. Perhaps she would be wise to give the Queen wide berth for tonight.

At the end of the table, the Jedi was telling a tale from how he gesticulated and the rapt attention he had, not only from the royal couple, but Zayim the Head of House of Javan. If the attendants of the royal transports were to be believed the Jedi had returned from Ta'a Chume's estate just before the dinner. Much curiosity abounded about their meeting. While Watcher shared that curiosity, she also wondered what the Jedi would decide with respect to Ilan. The news of the courtesan's detainment should have reached him by now. 

The thought brought with it renewed wonder at Jedi skills at recuperation. Unbelievable that the Queen should allow an honor duel involving the guard who had been poisoned just that morning. The story at court was that the Jedi had somehow sensed the poison and it had been an abortive attempt. Watcher knew better, of course. She remembered Mara's pale face, the way she'd lost control of her limbs, struggling for air as Humlace victims tended to do in their death throes. The Queen's agent had survived it with the Jedi's intervention but seemed none too graceful about it. 

Had Mara been Hapan, Watcher would ascribe it to being saved by a man, but she was an offworlder, and their absurd notions about men's capacities with respect to women were well known. Watcher pursed her lips, eyes on the Jedi as he continued speaking making eye contact with all at the table with the ease of one used to public displays. She'd long thought of Mara as the _Queen's_ agent, Watcher realized. That had been her oversight -- she'd been viewing their affair in Hapan terms. Was not Mara, just as the Jedi had mentioned in his conversation with the Chume'da, his subordinate, sent by him at the Chume'da's request?

Watcher couldn't stifle a grimace as the sheer distastefulness of it dawned on her. Her thoughts veered in the Queen's direction. Even as a primitive, the Queen was still a woman and the Chume'da's superior -- if anything _he_ should be in need of her protection. Should the Queen meet her death, he'd be passed on to whatever House the former queen deigned fitting for an alliance. Or completely disposed off if the rumors of his inability to produce an heir were found to be correct. This was the price for weakness, and it should be the Queen taking measures against it, not her consort. 

Watcher shook off her unease by focusing on the Jedi's companion for the evening. House of Javan was an innocuous House as far as Watcher was concerned. Zayim, the acting Head had been the favorite courtesan of House of Javan’s former mistress. He'd had the misfortune of not being accorded proper status before the Lady’s passing, leaving the House in a sensitive position. As acting Head, Zayim was severely constrained by his sex and lack of formal status. House of Javan's heir, Neneida, two months shy of adulthood by Hapan law, sat beside her guardian, ramrod straight, as if awaiting an exam, jewels sparkling in her coiffed hair. The burden would fall on Neneida to turn her House's fortunes around once she passed her name-day, arrangements were already in process. Rumors said she'd been groomed into the wiliness that had served her mother well in turning her birthright into not just any house, but a High House. Time would tell if Neneida would be up to the task. Houses had collapsed for less.

Watcher went to the kitchens for a check on the second course and when she returned, the Jedi was listening to Zayim. The royal couple looked a bit bored. Neneida had not moved. The girl should have been coached to exude more charm, Watcher thought with a shake of her head. She wore a burgundy taffeta corset dress with a heavily embroidered bodice that seemed to Watcher a heavy-handed attempt to make her look older. It was effective to a point, compounded as it was by her seriousness. Watcher didn't think she'd seen her smile once. Perhaps court was overwhelming to her, this might be her first time. But, Watcher narrowed her eyes, one couldn't discount the possibility that it was by design.

Neneida suddenly said something and got up from her seat. Her guardian's eyes followed her until she left the room, then he turned to the Jedi. The Jedi smiled somewhat dismissively at whatever he'd said. Zayim continued and the Jedi’s smile went a bit forced. His eyes slid in the Chume’da’s direction. The Chume’da discreetly turned his head towards the direction in which Neneida went. The Jedi left his seat, not without reluctance, and went in that direction, his bodyguard trailing behind him.

The Queen looked after him and said something to Zayim who bowed his head, a smile playing on his lips.

Watcher went around the room, but itched to follow. She made herself go back to the kitchens looking over as the servers grabbed their trays. When she emerged the Jedi was back and in conversation with Zayim, the Chume'da weighing in from time to time. The Queen was leaning back on her chair as if tired, but there was restive air about her. Watcher's eye was drawn to Neneida who was looking everywhere but at the Jedi.

Watcher’s curiosity was so great she purposely sought Mara, and promptly tore her eyes away once she realized Mara’s eyes were already on her, in a flash of incisive green. She circled around the room, was about to duck back into the kitchens when Mara materialized out of the shadows beside her, silent as a sand panther.

“Something wrong, Watcher?” she murmured.

She scowled at the Queen's agent, refusing to be intimidated. “Why are you out of your post, _chume’doro_?” 

Confusion crossed Mara’s face at the sharpness of her tone and use of the ritual title. 

“Did you see anything?” Mara stared in the Queen’s direction. 

Watcher realized that it was on the Queen’s behalf that she was asking. Mara must have thought Watcher was summoning her. Sheepish, she shook her head and continued back towards the kitchens. Once there, she went straight towards the full wine glasses on a serving tray, grabbed one, brought it to her lips, emptying it in one swig to calm her frayed nerves. Outside, the musicians began a lively tune. 

\--

Once Watcher arrived at her room, she considered taking the data cards from the holocam and incinerating them. She considered deleting the program. Every passing day brought her closer to discovery. She'd nearly jumped out of her skin tonight. Was it worth it to find out what the future Head of House of Javan had attempted or what the Jedi's audience with the former queen had yielded? Her doubts magnified, but so did her curiosity. Even more so now that the assassination attempt had intensified the situation at court. 

Watcher turned on the feed, the living room area was empty so she toggled until she got the holocam in the sleeping area.

“Feels different, the little I could get. Not your usual hired thug,” the Jedi was saying. He was out of the formal robes and was simply in his tunic shirt wearing loose fitting pants and pacing in front of the bed. Mara was sitting cross-legged in the middle clad in a sleep tunic. “Whoever it is they can conceal themselves.”

She leaned back, pensive.

“And the person knows now I’m onto them.”

“But," she lifted her index finger, "they don't know about me.” She smiled. 

The Jedi nodded slowly. “I guess it wouldn’t be out of place for Lady Lis to call on Ta’a Chume. To tell her her side of the story. You’ve been sighted with her already.”

Mara tilted her head approvingly. “And here I thought you had no talent for subterfuge.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I’m not looking forward to batting off her paws all afternoon.”

“Better than getting lectured about conjugal duties by a sixteen year old.” The Jedi shook his head, appalled. "You're my bodyguard -- that's the kind of thing you should have saved me from."

Mara snorted. “Heirs are no joking matter here." She grinned suddenly. "And how could I interfere in the honored guest's business? I'm just the muscle. You were pretty good at batting that lecture right back at her. Although, I don't think it got you in her good graces."

He scowled at her. “Lady Lis didn’t mention anything about conjugal duties.” 

“She can afford subtlety, a marriage contract means something else to her House. Isolder filled us in this morning, remember? Neneida’s House is in a more vulnerable position. They know what it's like not to have a legitimate Head of House. You can't blame her for trying to negotiate the terms of the marriage contract up front to guarantee heirs.” 

His face turned somber -- at the reminder of the morning, Watcher supposed, because he went to sit on the bed next to her, leaning over to touch her arm. “How do you feel?”

“Same as the last ten times you asked,” she replied, an edge of irritation coming into her voice. “I told you Humlace is not that complicated a poison. Most of it is out of my system. I didn’t even have to tap into Cilghal’s more complicated techniques.” She shot him a sideways glance.“Something else is bothering you though.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” he replied and Watcher thought she could see him grow wary. “Trade?”

Mara didn’t look enthusiastic at the prospect. “The poison was meant for you.”

The Jedi straightened up. “Well, yes. We knew that.”

“No, because Vestas told Teneniel and the court it was for me.”

The Jedi’s brow furrowed. “Wait. So then--”

“It had to have been for you,” Mara insisted. “Then someone spilled that I wasn’t at court in the morning and he took a chance."

“Why?”

She wagged a finger at him. “That’s not the right question. Obviously to save his skin. You are the honored guest after all.”

“All right,” he conceded. “Then why poison me? Is he linked to Ta’a Chume? Ni’Korish?”

“ _Those_ ,” she stabbed at the air emphatically, “are the right questions.”

“And?”

She spread her hands. “He’s gone. The second he was taken out of the palace he vanishes.” She folded her forearms and Watcher could almost sense restless energy gather in her as she spoke. “So now we have our loose end running around. Teneniel and Isolder’s control within the palace is tight, but outside of it... ”

The Jedi blew out a breath. “At least we have Lady Lis’ cooperation.”

Mara pressed her lips together. “Can’t feel good for Vestas to be sold out that fast. Stupid to go to her and brag.”

“Maybe he thought it would get him in her good graces.”

“Or,” she shifted forward. “It wasn’t about Lady Lis at all. Can’t go to see Ta’a Chume if you’re dead. How convenient that she was suddenly unavailable.”

The Jedi thought about it. “They gave me the run around. Moves and countermoves. I’m getting a headache. Was Palpatine’s court like this?”

Mara shook her head. “Not to me.” Her eyes grew distant. She blinked and her eyes cleared. “So Teneniel suggested Lady Lis be my cover for a visit to Ta’a Chume?”

He nodded. 

“Tomorrow?”

He stayed silent.

Unease crossed her features. “When?”

“The day after.”

“What?” she exploded. “Any more time we wait--”

“You were just poisoned,” he pointed out. “I don’t like waiting any more than you do. But it’s not smart to send you in there to face someone who can use the Force when you’re not completely healed. I’d also like to go--”

“I can do it myself.” She glared at him. “I’m _fine_.”

The Jedi shook his head. “Mara.”

“Something wrong with your hearing? I’m fine.”

“That’s why your hands still shake?” He asked softly.

Mara balled her hands into fists, staying silent for a few beats. She looked down at them, the curve of her neck taut, as if she were willing the weakness away. Without looking up, she muttered, “Is it that noticeable?” 

Concern deepened in the Jedi's features. He made as if to touch her shoulder, but let his hand fall, stopping himself. “Who else would notice?”

“Watcher,” she answered and Watcher tensed. “She was acting strange at the beginning of dinner. Flighty. Like she knew something she shouldn’t. I thought it may have been about the Houses.” Impatience bled into her voice. Mara had still not looked up from her hands. “But I don’t know.” 

Watcher brought a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. Carelessness again and she’d had no one to blame but herself. Should she approach the Queen? Surely, her intent not to let her agent die counted? It must. She'd approach the Queen after the next evening's festivities. 

On the display the Jedi was hesitating. “Zayim made some comment about Vestas getting more than he bargained for when he saw you.”

“I have that effect on people,” Mara replied dryly, meeting his eyes with a veiled expression.

Again, he seemed to be selecting his words with caution. “So they put him before Teneniel and she showed him you were alive?”

“Yeah.” Apprehension began seeping into her voice. “I’m fine is the point.” 

The Jedi shook his head and slid off the bed. “You’re really not going to tell me that Teneniel offered you up for an honor duel? It was all over court.”

Mara blinked. “We knew Vestas would think twice after he saw the poisoning didn’t work.”

There was considerable strain in the Jedi’s voice. “That’s beside the point that Teneniel offered you up for an honor duel hours after you were poisoned.”

Mara cocked her head. “ _Teneniel and I_ decided that the best response was an aggressive one. He thought the poisoning worked. This showed him and whoever is behind him that it didn’t. He folded, we covered our miss. Bait them enough and they’ll be forced to act overtly and play right into our hands. It's better than all of this sneaking around.” 

Again the Jedi’s words were weighed down with tension. “You don’t think you and Teneniel took an unnecessary risk?”

She stared at him. “With Vestas? I don’t need to hold a blaster to take him down -- honor duels are hand-to-hand. I could win one in my sleep." She waved a hand. "Besides, Teneniel has gotten very good at bluffing.”

He didn’t say anything. 

“It’s Isolder isn’t it?" Mara's lip curled. "What happened? He wasn’t happy about not getting another Jedi? He’s not thinking straight. It’s the right thing. The Order can’t afford it.”

The Jedi narrowed his eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

But Mara went on. “You don’t like that he thinks you’re heartless. That you’d put Teneniel in harm’s way for principle. That you’d put me in harm’s way for the same.” She scoffed. “What he thinks doesn’t matter.” She reached for his hand. “I know the cost.”

“No, you don’t.” He yanked his hand away. “You have no idea," he snapped and his words came out in an angry rush. “All I could see today was your face as you choked to death this morning and you go and offer yourself for a duel? For _show_? As a _bluff_? That’s more than reckless. It’s stupid. I trust you to make better decisions than that. It’s not just you anymore.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you have a training bond with Teneniel,” he continued sharply. "You should probably undo --” he stopped suddenly and looked at Mara.

Mara didn't meet his eyes. “It was an accident. You said it yourself, I have a tendency for these things. Teneniel herself--”

His eyes widened in surprise. The words came out in a half gasp. “You're training her.” 

Mara bit her lip, but didn't respond.

The Jedi's eyes narrowed. “Since when?” 

There was the slightest hesitation in her voice. “Since I got here.”

It was hurt that passed through his features first, and then, disbelief. “You lied to me.”

Mara closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not a lie. She didn’t want to train at first.”

He looked at her still incredulous, anger beginning to seep back in in. “Are you really going to call it a half truth? Just like you conveniently forgot to mention Teneniel offering you for an honor duel?”

She leaned forward. “If you knew the stakes--”

“You _lied_ to me." The Jedi was not shouting, but there was a heft to the words that left no doubt about the anger and hurt behind them. "It’s not even the first time. You had me lie to Isolder for you.” 

“You would have told Isolder and --”

“I would have liked to have a choice in the matter. I would think you’d owe me that.”

“They killed her.” Mara’s spoke suddenly, heavily. It sounded like an appeal to Watcher. “They bludgeoned her then they slit her throat. Everything we’ve done--” she started then stopped herself as if losing the words.

Watcher expected the Jedi to soften, everything she'd seen indicated that he would, but all he said was,“Lying and throwing yourself headfirst into danger against all common sense is not how you honor Kirana Ti.” All the anger and hurt seemed to be pushed aside, preternatural calm now solidly in place. “Keep this up and you’ll have to recuse yourself.”

Mara's head snapped up. “What?”

“Or I’ll remove you." It was the same tone of voice, he'd used with the Chume'da. "Your choices are yours, but I won’t sanction you acting like this. Teneniel is not a Jedi, but you are. If you’re not centered enough to act on behalf of the Order, then you won’t.”

The color drained from her face. “You’re pulling rank.”

“We are Jedi. ‘Any means necessary’ is not how we act.”

She stood, faced off against him and, eyes flashing fury. “You think you can pull me from here?”

He shook his head, unaffected. “Of course not. But I’m not going to stand here and watch you throw yourself into danger without thinking things through, much less be lied to while you do it. We’re accountable to more than ourselves. You can act however you see fit, just not under the Order’s auspices. We’ll square the fallout later.”

The more he spoke the more her fury was replaced by shock. “You would leave Hapes?”

“Don’t cut me out,” he said simply. “I won’t sit on the sidelines and watch you do it.”

“If you trusted me--”

He flashed her a look of disbelief. “You’re saying that now? After lying to me?”

Her voice was hushed. “You said we’d face anything together.”

“How can we when you don’t want to?”

She stared at him and to Watcher it seemed like with every second of silence, the dismay was gradually replaced by implacable coolness. Her court mask, Watcher recognized. 

“Fine, I’ll play by your rules” she said softly. 

“Not my rules--”

“And once I finish here, I’ll officially resign from the Order.”

He sucked in a breath, serenity fracturing a bit. “You would do that to spite me?”

“I am not your underling." She gritted her teeth.

He shook his head at her, indignant. “I have _never_ treated you as an underling.”

“‘I’ll have to recuse myself? You’ll remove me?’” There was no hiding the rage simmering underneath. 

“You lied to me," he retorted without any give. "Twice. And that's not taking into account your decisions--”

“You just got here," she shot back. "It was _my choice_ to come here. _I_ know how Hapes works. And I am not about to risk you spoiling everything because of principle.”

“You shouldn’t have come on behalf of the Order if you didn't want me here.”

Her lips formed a humorless smile. “You’re completely right, _Master_ Skywalker. I shouldn’t have.”

He flinched at the title as if it were an epithet, but added sharply with a lift of his chin, “You'd be dead.”

The way Mara stiffened and drew a breath made Watcher feel as if the statement were more cutting than an insult. Mara's face went utterly blank. With very precise movements, she turned and walked over towards the guard's chamber and slammed the door closed.

The Jedi looked after her, the rigidity of his posture melting away. His shoulders sagged a little as he took a step towards the small room, but narrowly stopped himself, exiting the sleeping area instead. Watcher toggled the holocams. The Jedi had gone towards the window and stood for a long moment staring out to the gardens. The set of his neck and shoulders felt supplicant to Watcher, but the moons of Hapes seemed to have no answers. He arranged himself cross-legged on the divan, folding his hands before him and bent his head, closing his eyes.

Watcher turned off the display and went to get ready for bed.

\--

Watcher woke up early to continue supervising the last minute preparations for the evening’s entertainment. The pavilion was, in fact, a geodesic dome made of plasteel. The entire structure was painted alabaster white and sparkled in the dawn. The architects had done well.

Above the entrance, the servants were draping colorful tulles under the tight ropes for the acrobats. According to the designer the effect should be as if one were entering a rainbow. Several mist fountains were arranged at the entrances for that kind of ethereal effect. How that would harmonize with domesticated rancors, Watcher didn’t know. 

She wrapped a couple of slices of bread in a cloth after passing through the kitchens and went back to her quarters for her breakfast. This was to be the last dinner, she wondered which one of the High Houses, the Queen had selected to continue the ploy. Now that the Jedi had found the assailant, the sham would be unnecessary, but how to lure out the former Queen? 

Watcher thumbed the display on. The screen showed the Queen on one of the armchairs, while the Chume’da paced. The Jedi leaned against the wall.

“Mother,” the Chume'da mused. "It could have never been otherwise."

“Someone with her backing, possibly. A trained Force user.”

“Not Hapan then," the Queen put in. 

“Maybe he or she received training outside of Hapes and snuck to court,” the Jedi suggested.

“Not in Hapes," the Chumeda said firmly. "You can’t sneak onto court. Even getting Mara here took Astarta’s cooperation and both her and my network. The only way--could that person have manipulated all those surrounding her? Could one use the Force to do that?”

“Not easily. Especially if the person was forced to maintain that control to keep themselves hidden.” The Jedi shook his head. “Kirana Ti would have sensed that kind of Force use.”

“Maybe she did.”

The Jedi considered it. “I suppose so.”

“Kirana Ti never mentioned sensing anything. She would have told me,” the Queen shook her head. “No, she was caught by surprise.” She paused. “I felt it.” Her expression turned determined. “And Mara will be up to going to Ta’a Chume with Lady Lis tomorrow?”

The Jedi nodded.

The Chume'da put a hand under his chin. "It will have to be a delicate operation. We cannot have Mother claiming that we are out for her blood. We need to find the murderer and bring them out."

The false door slid open and Mara walked in. The Jedi followed her with his eyes, a pained a expression passing through his features. For her part, Mara betrayed no more than she had at the end of the previous night.

The Queen frowned. "That would be ideal. But more likely the murderer will fight tooth and nail against discovery. Bringing them to court alive might not be possible."

The Chume'da shook his head. "Mother will claim a death contract on her. She'll argue the murderer was her bodyguard. Kill them and you're making her case." 

The Queen's expression darkened, but she didn't respond. 

Mara took in the serving plate on the coffee table. “No token from House of Javan, as expected," she said airily. "A bit of a warning would have been nice, Isolder.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she went to sit on the couch, ignoring the Jedi’s gaze on her all the while. "We're still offworlders."

“I should have, I’m sorry. In all the...excitement in the morning, I was remiss. Neneida was a bit more aggressive than I anticipated.” The Chume’da looked dutifully embarrassed. “We’ll keep a close eye on her. The kind of pressure she's under could lead to more drastic means of consolidating power.”

“Did you get a sense of their connection to the Ni’Korish?” the Queen asked the Jedi.

The Jedi shook his head. “I got the feeling Zayim didn’t know. With how conscious they are that they lack a female head and that Neneida not yet old enough to officially control the house, I don’t see them doing anything that would make Teneniel angry. Mara?”

Mara turned pensive, gaze unfocusing. “That was my impression too. They don’t care about Jedi. They care about their position at court. It’s like that with all the connections Astarta turned up. The Ni’Korish thrive because of tradition. It's almost as if its a requirement of a High House to link themselves to them. The nobles don’t have any experience with Jedi in anything other than gossip and tales. Only Ta’a Chume and she’s in such a visible position that her actions are constrained.” She frowned. "Or we think they are. We know she has a weapon. She's just waiting for the right time to use it."

“We were looking in the wrong place all along,” the Chume’da despaired.

“We know that the murderer is hidden behind Ta’a Chume,” the Jedi pointed out. “That lead isn’t cold. It’s just a matter of digging it out.”

"Ta'a Chume has tried to come to us," the Queen spoke softly. "After Kirana Ti's death. It was the only time the court was on my side."

The Chume'da nodded. "The gall of it, coming under the pretense of giving condolences."

"Perhaps we should give her another opportunity," the Queen offered. "We're certainly better equipped than last time."

Her consort shook his head. "Too risky. Mother still has links to the Houses. Given the opportunity she'll play for their sympathy."

"We cannot keep waiting. What other option do we have?" 

"What we discussed. Find the murderer. Bring them here." 

"It's not going to be that easy." The Queen's frustration was palpable.

The Chume’da closed his eyes. "Teneniel, we can't play Mother in public. It's her preferred ground. We'll lose."

The Queen looked away, fists clenching in her lap. 

“As long as we’re keeping the ruse up one last time," the Chume'da sighed, "Let’s discuss your companion this evening, Luke.”

The Jedi nodded. “Right. What House?”

“Olanji.”

Mara’s eyes shot towards the Queen. “Zeciv Olanji.”

The Queen nodded. 

“Astarta found ties to Ni’Korish from House of Olanji?” She couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. Watcher herself was taken aback.

“I was just as surprised," the Queen said bitterly. "I shouldn’t have been. Not if the Ni'Korish are as Hapan as rainbow gems.”

The Jedi turned to Mara. “What’s so special about the Olanji?”

She looked at him, but it was the Chume’da who answered, “They were one of the first to pledge themselves to Teneniel. We’ve never had cause to doubt them before now. They’re a very old, very powerful House. Zeciv is one of the luminaries at court. She's one of the most popular figures here.”

The Queen rolled her eyes. “She was a candidate for the throne. Groomed for it, in fact. Didn’t you and her share palace tutors?”

“Mother put the stop on any possible marriage contract between me and her,” the Chume’da added. “She was too concerned that House of Olanji would have too much power.”

“Which is to say she’s just as much a melesi serpent as anyone here,” Teneniel finished.

The Chume’da seemed ill at ease with her characterization. “Well, yes, in general, she _is_ Hapan nobility. But the House of Olanji and Zeciv herself--”

“I have no patience for this anymore,” the Queen interrupted. 

“It’s important to make clear the ambitions of the House--”

“Of course, so we can play their game. In Dathomir, we would have all these power hungry vipers all exiled from the clan--”

“This is not Dathomir.”

“I know this.”

He shook his head at her in rebuke. “If you did you wouldn’t make these displays.”

The Queen’s eyes flashed. “Why don’t you show Luke the gardens and tell him all about House of Olanji there.”

“You’re dismissing me?” He let out a sharp laugh. “There are no protocol tutors here, Teneniel. You can say what you mean.”

“I thought you’d appreciate being told to get out the Hapan way. Shall I do it the Dathomirian way? We only say it once.”

“Once? How generous. I thought you simply flung your men away with a spell once they said something you didn’t want to hear.”

“Isolder,” Luke intervened. “Show me the gardens.”

“Don’t test me, husband.”

“Or what, Teneniel?” She stared at him for several beats. He shook his head at her again. “All of this is for you.”

Mara stood and went towards the windows. The Jedi’s head turned to follow her.

“I don’t want it,” Teneniel muttered. “I don’t want any of it. No child of mine will ever hide like this.” She looked up at the Chume’da squarely. “That is, if my House doesn’t crumble into the dust for lack of heirs.”

The Chume’da paled.

Watcher gasped. The accusation was all the more cutting for its obliqueness. A Hapan insult through and through.

The room was deathly silent.

“The gardens, Isolder?” The Jedi said gently, approaching and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Yes, of course,” the Chume’da replied composing himself, like one shaking himself from a blow. He approached the wall panel and set out through the hidden passageway the Jedi behind him. The Jedi darted a final look Mara’s way before setting off.

Mara remained by the window.

The room stayed impossibly still for a long moment.

“I’m sorry for pulling so much,” the Queen broke the silence. She looked down at her hands. “I did want to fling him to the wall.”

“Take what you need,” Mara murmured.

The Queen brought her arms around herself, forlorn. “Time enough for apologies later.” She turned to Mara. “Luke will know if I pull too much, won’t he?”

Mara shrugged, then walked back to the couch, rubbing at her forehead. “He already knows.”

“That explains it.”

Mara sighed as she sat down. “Teneniel, I have enough with one person in my head. Take my calm all you want, but leave my head alone.” She bowed her head a bit, as if looking down at her boots.

The Queen was chagrined. “I didn’t mean to pry.” She stayed quiet. After a moment, she tilted her head to the side, trying to meet Mara’s eyes. “Quite a delicate lot, aren’t they,” she said lightly.

At that Mara did smile faintly. The Queen went to sit down beside her on the couch. 

“Kirana Ti used to say that men and rancors would do as they would.”

Mara straightened up a bit. “I have no idea what that means.”

The Queen seemed to ponder it. She smiled abruptly. “I guess I don’t know either.” Concern once again filtered through her voice. “I did not wish to cause strife between you.”

“He’ll come around."

“And before he does? Won’t it tear at you?” The Queen’s gaze became cloudy. “The discord is almost more than I can bear. It reminds me of when I first arrived and there was only the woman who the court hated and the woman who Isolder wanted me to be. Perhaps it’s easier when your minds are one.”

Mara made a face. “Our minds are not one.” She rubbed at her forehead again. “Do you,” she began softly. “Do you ever think about going back to Dathomir?”

The Queen stared at her. “All the time, but then I realize that the Dathomir I remember doesn’t exist anymore.” She looked towards the hidden door. “That me doesn’t exist anymore. Hapes has changed me.”

Mara nodded dully. 

The Queen put a hand on her arm. “Darkness gathers. You feel it, don’t you? It will strike soon. Then this will be over. You’ll be able to mend the strain after?”

“Worry about your house, Majesty,” Mara said, but the words lacked bite. She only sounded weary. “I’ll worry about mine.”


	7. The Evening Performance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're approaching the climax. Thanks to everyone for hanging in there. *bites nails*

Watcher stepped out of the kitchens heading towards the gardens carrying the beastmaster’s dinner. The animal pens were a bit removed from the banquet hall behind the pavilion, but the beastmaster was making his final preparations and would have no time to come eat with the rest staff. He was a rare offworlder about a decade older than Watcher who had spent a good number of years in Hapes. While the former Queen had granted him favor for his skills, rumor was he got on even more famously with the current Queen.

Watcher couldn’t help but bring a hand over her nose at the offensive smell of the rancors. Those, along with the dancers and the acrobats would make for the most entertaining evening since the Festival of Lights. Tonight would be the highlight of the Jedi Master’s visit to Hapes, and the whole court was looking forward to it tremendously. Watcher herself had more than a passing interest, but as always, the smooth running of the night’s events was her priority.

“Is the feeding done?” Watcher gestured to the pens nervously after greeting him and putting down the basket with his dinner.

He nodded at her kindly, long used to this reaction. “They’re in a good mood tonight, too.”

Watcher humph’ed. “I certainly hope so.”

“Do you think it will work?” the beastmaster asked thoughtfully as he withdrew the tablecloth from the basket and spread the utensils and plates on it. He could have taken the basket to the sitting area inside, but he seemed more inclined to eat outside in the grassy clearing before the pens, just off the side of the pavilion. The sun had just set, and pavilion glinted like a pearl in the twilight. 

Watcher turned away from the view. “What?”

“All this.” He gestured around him, including not just the animal pens, but the pavilion a few steps away, and the banquet hall in the distance. “Will the Jedi give her Majesty a new bodyguard for a Hapan wife?”

Certainly, Watcher knew the answer to be a no, from what she’d witnessed. The thought was an unpleasant reminder that she was to tell the Queen Mother about her entirely protective surveillance of the Jedi tonight. She was not looking forward to it. 

“Thus far, he seems rather immune to the charms of our women. Perhaps he’s celibate after all.”

The beastmaster laughed softly. “He doesn’t need to be celibate to be unmoved by the prospect of being treated like an object.”

“He has rank. This would be no common marriage contract.”

“I suppose not.” The beastmaster broke off a piece of bread. “But her Majesty’s marriage was not a common marriage contract either, and she becomes more Hapan every day.”

Watcher smiled. “You say this like it is unfortunate, but she is our Queen Mother. She must be Hapes herself.”

He shrugged. “She was...joyful before. She and Kirana Ti would come visit the rancors in the mornings.”

Watcher fought the urge to wrinkle her nose. “Yes, well, that was her past. Part of reaching maturity is putting aside childish things.”

He sighed. “One’s heritage is not a childish thing, Mistress of the Household.” 

“Her heritage makes her unfit to rule.” An offworlder would not argue her on this. “ Among the lizard wearers of Dathomir, there is no restraint no prudence, just violence.”

The beastmaster cocked his head. “You mean to say Hapans exemplify restraint, prudence, and pacifism?”

Watcher fixed him with a glare. 

He continued, undaunted, “I’ve been here long enough, seen enough bloodshed around your court to know that is not the case. You have your ways, true, but ways is all that they are, and there’s a galaxy full of them. Hapes could benefit from ways other to its own.” He stroked his beard. “The loss of Kirana Ti was in some ways the loss of Teneniel Djo herself. You may well get your wish. More’s the pity.”

Without warning, Watcher found herself thinking of Mara. So much fell into place about the initiation test months ago. The Queen must have recognized in her abilities some echo of her fallen kinswoman. Watcher thought of the leather strap she still wore, the undercurrent of anger at the court. No, the greater cause for concern was that Teneniel Djo was very present still. 

She bid the beastmaster good bye and went back to the banquet hall. The reception was already in full swing. Luckily, her trip out to the pavilion hadn’t made her miss Zeciv’s entrance. The lady walked in with her three sisters behind her, all of them stunning in pale blue gowns, but Zeciv, as usual, drew every eye in the room. Her off shoulder princess line dress was white with embroidered gems scattered about that matched the blue-green of her eyes. Tight about the waist, the flowing skirts granted her an ethereal look. The same gemstones hung in her drop earrings, standing in relief from her golden tresses.

Her physical perfection was only part of it. Obviously, Hapans were a race apart when it came to beauty, but even so, Zeciv Olanji effortlessly made all the women around her seem dowdy by comparison. It could be the tall, slender figure, the glossy hair cascading down her shoulders in waves, or her eyes the color of aquamarines. Watcher shook her head at herself. Zeciv was liable to bring the mediocre poet out in anyone -- reason enough she was _Zeciv_ and not Lady Olanji. But the gift of her Olanji upbringing had given her poise and an uncommon charm. The court had been so certain she would make the Chume’da hers and take the throne. After the tragic demise of the Chume’da’s previous fiancee, a longtime childhood companion of his, more than a few bets were made that he would fall into the Olanji’s clutches.

Nevertheless, the Olanji were no match for the former queen. It was Ta’a Chume’s House that was willing to spill the blood necessary to keep power time and again. No one knew precisely what Ta’a Chume had threatened the Olanji with, but Zeciv had kept her distance. It was not long after that the Chume’da had gone off to win the affections of the Ambassador of the New Republic and returned with his barbarian Queen.

Watcher focused on the scene before her. 

The Queen had opted for yet another strapless empire waist dress. This time the color was a dark silver in a flowing iridescent material. The veil that covered her whole face and stopped at her chin was again a severe black, but had an embroidered pattern in silver as its trim. Below, her choker was a thick platinum band that went high on her neck, reminiscent of a cuff. The outfit as a whole was more or less sedate until one arrived at the Queen’s hair. It had been arranged in a mass above her head, fixed so it looked perpetually windblown up in a single direction tapering at the end, the whole of it acquiring a shape that looked like a teardrop. To this, the dressers had added two platinum hair brooches the shape of serpents to either side to which the veil was attached. The effect was quite startling. Not pleasing per se, but striking. Beside her, the Chume’da’s garb was more sedate yet, all in black, the embroidered lapels of his long jacket the only idiosyncrasy, a flash of winding silver that matched the Queen’s dress, as was proper form. The stiff way they stood beside each other made Watcher think their schism continued unabated.

The Queen extended one hand to introduce Zeciv, the strap at her wrist drawing Watcher’s disapproving eye. Zeciv approached to curtsy and Watcher bit back a proud smile. Like all who lay eyes on her, the Jedi looked positively stunned. Unlike the rest however, he recovered quickly, bowing to her with the same distant deference he’d shown the two previous candidates. As the evening went on, the Jedi seemed no less polite, but a bit distracted, demeanor edging ever so slightly into morose. There was still that amiability that he’d had with the other candidates, but it seemed like a more affected gloss to Watcher, strained. 

The quarrel weighed on him, she supposed. If Watcher pondered it, ignoring the aberration of a man having a female subordinate, his disquiet was yet another mark of unseemly weakness. Those in power lead, after all, without explanation or apology, that was their lot -- just as the lot of an inferior was to follow, without question or complaint. That was the natural order.

She did wonder about Mara. The barely controlled rage she’d exhibited with the Jedi was difficult to reconcile with the bleakness she’d shown to the Queen. Watcher couldn’t help but think of a caged animal. How she felt witnessing the Jedi being courted tonight by the likes of one such as Zeciv, Watcher couldn’t imagine.

Her curiosity was piqued all the more by the shadow that passed over Zeciv’s face as the reception wore on, she and the Jedi moving about the room in idle chatter with nobles here and there. Well adept at maneuvering through the masquerades at court, she had probably realized the Jedi’s courteous distance. Zeciv’s mouth looked a touch pinched to Watcher, her eyes had gathered a slight sharpness. This was not a woman used to being ignored. 

Watcher went back into the kitchens to supervise the final preparations for the first course. By the time she made her way into the main hall, the nobles had taken their seats. Like the rest of the candidates before her, Zeciv had taken her seat beside the Jedi at the Queen’s table.

In contrast to the ladies before her however, she seemed not to need much prompting to engage her table companions -- her gestures had a pleasing effervescence tempered with courtesy, not just towards the Jedi, but the Chume’da, and even the Queen, who rewarded her with clipped answers and unnecessary curtness. True to Zeciv’s recognized skill, she took the orneriness in stride without losing her geniality. The Queen’s animosity seemed all the more alarmingly blatant with every trip Watcher made out to the room.

If Watcher knew it, Zeciv must too, but she continued, all winsome smiles and deferential gestures. Watcher was scarcely a few feet away from the table when the Queen put her utensils down sharply, her head snapping up. 

“I tire of your making nice.” Watcher heard her say. Watcher froze. Very slowly, she began approaching the Queen’s table, intent on preventing a scene. The Queen had been increasingly volatile as of late, and while Watcher was loathe to get in her path, public offense to Zeciv would pit the court itself solidly against her. At this point, Watcher was not sure if even the Chume’da himself could successfully intervene, but perhaps between him and her, the Queen could be persuaded to demonstrate restraint.

True enough, Chume’da had turned to the Queen, the alarm plain on his face.

“Pardon?” Zeciv’s face betrayed only confusion.

“Don’t say my approach to ceremony is _refreshing_.” The Queen lifted a finger. “Don’t say that you think that veils are an unnecessary archaism. You believe none of it, like everyone here.”

“Majesty.” Zeciv blinked. 

The Queen lifted her chin. “You’d do well to keep to your attentions on the honored guest. Him and him alone.”

“If there is something--”

“Does he bore you, Zeciv?” The Queen placed her hands flat on the table and Watcher felt as if she were about to pounce. Watcher inched closer, hoping the Chume’da would intervene, but he simply stared at his Queen with growing trepidation. “Would you like to dance with Chume’da Isolder?”

Watcher suppressed a gasp. 

Zeciv was speechless.

"Zeciv." The Chume'da extended a hand to his wine glass and Watcher felt relief spread through her as he began. He would offer apologies for the Queen, perhaps suggest she was feeling unwell. “Your House's -- your -- dealings with the Ni’Korish are not unknown to us, you see.”

The relief vanished. He could not have--

“And from someone from a House like yours,” the Chume’da’s voice dipped, with something close to petulance, alluring and discomfiting at the same time, just as his eyes lifted to Zeciv’s over the lip of his glass, “it offends us.” He covered the Queen’s hand with his other, interlocking his fingers with hers. “It upsets her Majesty a great deal, as you can well imagine.”

Zeciv went white as a sheet. She took took a breath. 

“Investments in my House are not my domain,” she said quickly, speaking to the Queen directly. “I can assure you that this will be taken care of. My and my House’s well being depend more on the Queen’s favor than on some shadowy faction of old.”

She turned to the Jedi. “They say Jedi can read minds. Do I lie to my Queen?” She met his eyes squarely.

The Queen’s chin raised in the Jedi’s direction. He shook his head.

“Ereneda.” Zeciv bowed her head. “If there be doubts about the loyalty of my House...” Her hand went to her neck where her House’s pendant rested. With one tug, the delicate chain snapped. Her eyes didn’t leave the Queen’s veiled face as she placed it on the table in front of the Jedi.

The Chume’da’s eyes widened. Even the Queen leaned back.

Zeciv finally turned to the Jedi. “That is the symbol of my House’s fortune. If it is an alliance with a Hapan House that you seek, then the Olanji will answer.” Her gaze returned to the Queen, appeal written upon it. “If it should please the Ereneda...whatever terms her honored guest find favorable, I will accept.”

The Jedi looked from the Queen to Zeciv in disbelief. 

Zeciv’s face hardened. “House of Olanji has no love for the former queen and her rule of terror.” Her eyes finally turned from the Queen to the Chume’da and she bowed her head again. “Chume’da Isolder is indeed the jewel of the court, but I know my place.” She turned to the Queen again. “House Olanji will always stand by her Queen.”

The tension released. Situation seemingly defused, Watcher made herself go back to the kitchens to oversee the plating of the third course. 

This time Watcher made it out to the hall in time to hear the musicians begin warming up. Over at the Queen’s table, Zeciv offered her hand to the Jedi for a dance. It would have been strange indeed for her not to after offering a marriage contract. The Jedi took it with some hesitance, possibly still taken aback by the turn of events. Zeciv’s skirts billowed in a cloud of blue and white as she walked to the dance floor. She offered a look over one shoulder at the Jedi and an inviting smile with no trace of guile, oblivious to the heads that turned when she passed. The lure. Watcher could only see the Jedi’s back from where she stood and could interpret nothing from it. 

Ballroom dancing was a classic court style in most, if not all, civilized worlds. In Hapes it was the only realm where it was acceptable for a man to lead. When Zeciv reached the dance floor she let go of the Jedi’s hand, turned and waited, arms spread, slightly bent at the elbows. The Jedi crossed over the paces between them to stand before her. There was the briefest instant, the space of a gasp, and the Jedi’s arm lifted just under hers, forearm in an impeccably firm line, his hand at the middle of her back while his other clasped the proffered palm. 

Watcher saw Zeciv’s intake of breath, the fall of her gaze to his shoulder in the briefest second before the music picked up and they were off, steps unhurried, yet perfectly timed to the rise and fall of the music. They swept through the dance floor in a flurry of elegant strides and whirls. Watcher covered her mouth. 

Her harebrained server was right, watching him, the dull robes, the bland amiability flitted from her mind. She only saw an almost voluptuous display of control. He was suddenly nothing but commanding presence, staking tacit claim over the space, the lady in his arms. His was an implacable advance that she answered with a coy retreat, neck arching back as he lightly dipped her. He spun her like he was bestowing a gift to the court, only to take her back again. The dance floor cleared, dancers turning into rapt spectators.

True, he had danced with Lady Lis before, but Watcher very much doubted it had been like this. Zeciv gazed up at him with undisguised fascination, fully under his thrall. When Watcher finally caught the Jedi’s expression, all it seemed to her was closed, and was all the more transfixing for it. His aloofness coupled with her attraction made them transcendent. The court looked on, stupefied. It had to be Zeciv Olanji. Everything she touched turned into Corusca gems. 

How would Mara take it? Watcher narrowly caught herself sliding an eye to the shadows. She would not make that mistake again.

The song ended and the Jedi released Zeciv lightly bowing to her and the musicians, unconcerned of the eyes on him. Not without a display of regret, Zeciv offered her hand and led him back to the Queen’s table. 

Watcher tore herself away and returned to the kitchens where the chatter about Zeciv and the Jedi was mounting to a fevered pitch. She would normally scold the servers, but there were too many of them drawn in by the spectacle and she herself felt just as dazed as she had when she witnessed the true nature of the Jedi’s relationship to his supposed bodyguard. 

When she came back out to oversee the servers present the final course the Queen, her consort, and Zeciv were in conversation, but the Jedi was conspicuously absent.

Beyond curious, Watcher pulled one of the servers aside. “Where did the Jedi go?”

The server didn’t seem too interested, staring intently at Zeciv. Watcher had to repeat the question again to get a mumbled reply. “Outside.”

Of course. It made sense that the Jedi take a moment to reassure his lover after that dazzling display, and especially after their quarrel. She wasn’t sure, however, and her curiosity burned. The memory of her frayed nerves held her in place. She forced herself to circle the room making sure the end of the service was going smoothly. 

Minutes passed without the Jedi or Mara’s return. Soon enough Zeciv will wonder... Watcher left the banquet hall, walking outside into the veranda that overlooked the gardens. She made one circuit around, passing a group of nobles in loud conversation, but no trace of them. They must have gone below to the gardens. Watcher sighed. She took the set of stairs at the opposite side from where she had exited, but there was only the garden before her, not a soul in sight. Surely, at any moment Zeciv would notice the Jedi’s long absence...Watcher went up the stairs and crossed to the side of the veranda from which she had come, noticing from a distance that the group of nobles had gone back inside. She was just about to descend the stairs to the garden below, when Mara’s voice floated up.

“I shouldn’t have lied to you.” Her voice carried a raw note Watcher hadn’t heard from her before. Nothing she would have expected given her distant demeanor in the morning. 

There was a bit of silence. The Jedi spoke next, but what he said didn’t make sense to Watcher, seemingly a nonsequitor. “You were right. It’s nothing like when we faced C’baoth. Nothing. I keep thinking at one moment you’re next to me --” he broke off and there the meaning became obvious. He feared for her life. That, Watcher thought she understood. The poisoning. The Jedi didn’t finish the thought however, turning instead to, “You would really step down from the Order?” 

“I have to.” There was a plaintive note in the statement, but only silence followed. When Mara’s voice returned, it had that sharpness Watcher recognized. It sounded as if she’d been unpleasantly surprised by something. “I apologize and this? Nothing?” 

“Not nothing,” the Jedi said after a moment. “You accepted that you were wrong, that’s a positive step.”

Mara’s voice raised. “Positive step?” She managed to control her tone. “I can’t believe you.”

“You would leave the Order on a whim--”

“It’s not a whim.”

“Because I lead it -- out of spite,” he pressed. “It’s not an issue of accepting leadership. You have no problem with Karrde.”

“Stop talking.” She didn’t raise her voice this time, but there was incredulous fury there. “Before you continue saying moronic things. I have a working relationship with Karrde. I have a personal relationship with you.”

“Which is why we should work better.”

“No,” she insisted. “It’s why we don’t _work_ like this. And why we shouldn’t.”

He made a frustrated sound. “You can’t keep compartmentalizing like that.”

“Right.” Her voice lowered caustically. “Because the alternative is obviously such a good idea. It’s going swimmingly here.”

“You’d be doing things by halves.” Frustration sharpened his words. “Just like you’re doing everything. Half with Karrde, half with the Order. It’s the same with us half hidden--”

“You’re in my head!”

“And you’re in mine! It’s a _bond_ , not a mindlink. It has no influence on you -- if anything, you’ve shown yourself more than capable of manipulating it at will.” There was a beat of silence. “It may as well mean nothing to you.”

Unexpectedly, she quieted. “You know that’s not true. I apologized.” 

“What do you want from me then, Mara?” To Watcher the frustration had crossed over to pained resignation. “If you’re asking for me to approve of your choices, I won’t. I can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to approve of anything,” she replied thickly. “That’s why I’m stepping down.”

“If you don’t want to be accountable to anyone but yourself, quitting will not solve it.”

“No, it won’t,” she granted, but underneath her words Watcher sensed an appeal that grew increasingly desperate. For what, Watcher wasn’t sure.“But it will even the playing field. That’s good enough. I can’t --” Mara’s voice suddenly broke. For an instant Watcher thought she’d actually cry. 

Watcher frowned. How distasteful. 

The Jedi said her name, the whisper lingering in the silence.

When Mara’s voice came back a minute later, it was toneless. “We’ve been out here too long. Any longer they’ll come looking for you.” Watcher found herself nodding. This was proper form, at least. 

“Go ahead.” The Jedi said softly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Watcher heard Mara’s footsteps coming up the stairs and moved to intercept her.

Mara looked up at her. Her face was flushed, probably the remnants of the unseemly loss of self possession Watcher overheard, but otherwise collected. "Watcher." Mara gave her a curt nod of her head.

Watcher pursed her lips and gathered her hands together. “Lady Olanji is wondering where the honored guest is.” 

“That’s what I was just checking.” Mara gestured to the gardens. The slight turn of her head showed the back of her braid was disheveled to the point of impropriety. “Needed some air apparently.”

Watcher was about to broach the state of the braid when Mara commented, “They looked good together, no?”

Watcher cocked her head. Obviously Zeciv and the Jedi. She wondered if Mara realized the Jedi had been offered a marriage contract. She wouldn’t be the one to tell her, at any rate. “I suspect the Jedi Master might have a predilection for softer women than what Hapes has to offer.” She waved a hand. “Like all offworlders. But what kind of trifling matters are these, _chume’doro_? I would think someone of your station would know better than to concern herself with idle speculation. You have a task before you, do you not?”

Mara’s face darkened at the scolding. Good.

“While your protectee takes air, you might want to go to the staff refreshers to fix your braid." Watcher narrowed her eyes. "The state of the back is truly deplorable. However did you ruin it so?”

Mara brought a hand to it and lowered her head, ire fading to -- Watcher looked closely, was it embarrassment? “I’m--I’m not sure. I must have braided it carelessly. Apologies, Watcher, I’ll take care of it right away.” She scurried away to the staff refreshers.

Watcher wondered if she would have to actually get the Jedi, but he came up the stairs not long after, unsurprised to find her waiting.

“Mistress of the Household,” he greeted her. “Lady Olanji isn’t too concerned, I hope.”

“Not yet,” Watcher replied. Like Mara, the Jedi looked composed, save for a melancholy air. “Are you unwell, Master Skywalker? I could have a tonic prepared if you feel indisposed.”

Annoyance flickered for an instant before his usual placidity was back in place.

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself on my behalf.” He started towards the hall with Watcher in step beside him. “Occasionally, it becomes a bit much," he said after a moment, somewhat regretfully. "I’m afraid I’m not used to so many functions.” 

Watcher’s eyebrows lifted. “I wouldn’t have thought that from your dancing, Master Skywalker.”

He ducked his head in modest acknowledgement. “There’s only so many formal events one can skip when his sister is Chief of State.” There was a touch of the nostalgic in the next, “And I’ve had a good teacher over the years.”

“Only one?” Courtiers usually had an assortment of dance instructors, but, of course, they were bred for court functions. Nonetheless, even for an offworlder, one instructor seemed too few.

The Jedi’s smile was sad. “Only one.”

“Then you do her great credit as her student.” They had just arrived at the entrance to the banquet hall. She gestured him ahead. “Although I suppose it is quite a sensitive matter to advertise with the HoloNet being what it is." 

He looked at her curiously. 

“As always, I am at the honored guest’s service.” She nodded in his direction and took off towards the kitchens.

\--

After the dinner service had ended, the court made its way to the pavilion. The walk was planned for the guests to enjoy a view of the gardens and the pavilion as the the light of four of Hapes’ seven moons washed down. 

Within the pavilion, Watcher lead the Queen, her consort, Zeciv and the Jedi and the combined security detail for the Queen and Zeciv up the stairs to the raised platform which accommodated the seats for the Queen, her consort, and her guests. Bounded on all sides except the back with a railing, it rose perhaps two stories over the tiered stands from which the rest of the court would watch the various performances in the circular arena. 

Servants lead the nobles to their seats. Watcher caught sight of Astarta doing her final check of the guard positions below. The lights dimmed fractionally. It was true that a Hapan's sight was far less than offworlder’s where the dark was concerned, but Watcher didn’t need to see to know that Astarta’s duties would bring her back to personally guard over the royal couple once everything in the stands was to her liking. 

The acrobats opened the show. Lithe figures made impossibly graceful movements above the ring as the musicians played in accompaniment. Several dance performances were next. Zeciv excused herself when the last concluded and the lights came back on, just before the rancor show was to begin. Watcher couldn’t really blame her. That was hardly what she’d choose to see herself. 

The ground shook from heavy footfalls, which grew only heavier as the gates towards the back of the arena opened. Everyone expected it of course, but gasps still rang out through the stands.

Thick and gnarled limbs. A hunched back upon which a saddle had been placed. The rancor’s massive head had a mouth that seemed unable to close for all the sharp teeth in it. The beastmaster sat on the saddle, natural as any man in an aircar. But truly, the beast was hideous.

As repulsive as the rancor was, it carried the beastmaster gently to the center, stopped, oblivious to the crowd around it, and crouched gently to allow the beastmaster to dismount easily. He patted the beast, which huffed softly.

The beastmaster turned to the crowd. Applause rang out. 

“Good evening,” he greeted the court. “Glittering court of Hapes” He bowed low. “Ereneda, Chume’da, and honored guests.” He introduced himself, then gestured to the beast beside him. “You might think my companion needs no introduction. A fearsome rancor, you may say, but I assure you that there is nothing to fear and much to gain by giving these creatures our good favor. To that end, a proper introduction is necessary.” 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, allow me to present Rochi." He patted the beast again. “I’ve known Rochi since she was a hatchling, orphaned during one of Dathomir’s dry seasons -- I trust we are all familiar with the Queen Mother’s homeworld...” He bowed low in the Queen’s direction again. Incredibly, the beast beside him dipped its head forward as if bowing as well. 

Watcher looked in the Queen’s direction. She nodded towards the beastmaster and his rancor, leaning ever so slightly against the Chume’da. He showed a bit of hesitation before slipping his arm across her shoulders.

The beastmaster continued, “It is my sincere hope to display tonight that Rochi and her kind are intelligent and loyal, worthy servants for our Queen.”

The rancor sniffed the air.

“Herd animals by nature, they are sensitive to their surroundings, primed to work collaboratively.”

The rancor’s head lifted again. It appeared to fidget. The beastmaster patted it once more and it seemed to settle. 

Watcher looked at the Queen. She'd gone utterly still. The beast abruptly growled low. The Queen stood, just as the beast suddenly let out a roar that made the ground shake. The crowd gasped, there were some startled shouts.

“Teneniel,” Watcher heard the Chume’da whisper. “What is it?”

“It seems that Rochi has decided to show us how she roars. But you have nothing to fear." The beatmaster turned to the rancor soothingly, but his voice held a note of tension. “There, girl. It’s alright.”

The Queen walked towards the edge of the platform. The Chume'da called her, but she didn't respond, and he simply stared in concern. Her hands came up to grasp the railing tightly.

In the arena, the rancor took a step back. “It’s alright.” The beastmaster extended a hand.

The beast threw its head back. Its roar made the entire pavilion shake. Watcher felt herself grow cold. The Chume'da stood and approached the Queen.

The Queen didn't move otherwise. Watcher had the eerie feeling that the Queen was somehow _listening_ to something.

For something.

In the arena, the beastmaster had taken a step back and another. 

“Positions!” Watcher heard Astarta yell into her earpiece as she launched herself towards the railing to take in the scene below, just as beastmaster started running. Below, figures in red began fanning out between the stands, rushing to the perimeter of the arena.

"Open fire!"

“No use,” the Queen muttered.

"Teneniel?" The Chume'da came up behind her. "What is happening?"

Blaster fire rang out nonetheless, sparks bright, ozone sharp through the air. The rancor did continue undeterred. It took one step, two, and it was upon beastmaster. He stumbled. Fell. More blaster fire, and Watcher’s stomach clenched. The beast snapped forward to the man's sprawled form--

Only a foot away from the Jedi who had interposed himself between the beastmaster and rancor, his swift arrival kicking up a cloud of dust in the air. Watcher looked in the direction of his empty seat, when?

"Hold!" Astarta was shouting.

“Crawler’s Perch.” The Queen tore off the veil. She had no longer uttered the words than Mara was materializing from the shadows beside her. 

"Can you undo it?" 

The Queen shook her head.

The Chume'da looked on at the exchange, baffled.

“I’ll find them.” Mara whirled.

Teneniel's hand whipped out to clasp her arm. "Mara." Her head turned. "Do not concede to evil."

Mara smiled a smile that made Watcher shudder. "Not an inch." Then she was racing past the Chume'da down the nearest stairs.

The Chume'da once more called the Queen's name.

In the arena, the rancor blinked, surprised like everyone else to find the Jedi blocking access to its prey. The beast reared back again and roared, lunging at the Jedi. He jumped back and with an audible _snap-hiss_ , a green blade appeared.

The Queen ignored her consort, turning to Astarta. “Use the guard to get my court out.” Astarta was about to object but the Queen shouted, “Now. It’s an order!” She yanked at the sleeve of the Chume’da’s jacket. Her eyes were dark with worry. “Go with her.”

“Tene--”

“We have no time. Go!” she yelled, shoving him in Astarta’s direction. “Go now!”

One of the Queen's guards attempted to take hold of Watcher’s arm. “Watcher,” the guard admonished her when she withdrew her arm. “We must--”

From the animal pens in the distance there came a crashing sound. The ground shook. 

Watcher began to tremble. None of it could be happening. This was all just a terrible nightmare. 

At that moment, Zeciv burst back into the platform, past where Astarta was dragging the Chume’da out, past Watcher, past her and the Queen's other guards.

“Majesty!”

The Queen spun around, throwing out an arm. 

The vibrodagger caught Zeciv in the throat, deep crimson blossoming on the white of her dress. Her hands went to the hilt, an expression of shock in her exquisite face. The impact of the dagger pushed her back, sent her tumbling over the railing to the stands twenty feet below. 

Watcher fell to her knees with a scream.

Her Queen had murdered Zeciv Olanji. 

A deep grief welled up inside her and she covered her face with her hands. There would be no saving her Queen now.

For a second, the crowd’s screams below drowned out the rancor’s roars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hair do inspiration](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/68/d1/4c/68d14cce22f1729551626c5950afdd3f.jpg)


	8. (Interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene. Vignette-ish. POV shift warning. Plot content: 0%
> 
>  
> 
> Back to basics, guys.

From where she stood at the corner beside the heavy drapes, Mara rubbed her forehead.

It didn’t help.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she blinked, and forced herself to focus on the table a few feet from her where Teneniel, Isolder, Luke, and Zeciv Olanji sat.

A flicker of concern came from Teneniel’s direction, but the training bond was a delicate enough thread that she could bat it away easily. Teneniel took the hint and went back to bristling at Zeciv. Mara fought the impulse to sigh. Being rude to the darling of the court might be satisfying, but it would get them nowhere. What they’d found out about the previous Houses meant that the Olanji were clean, or just as clean as any other House.

That was a relief. Mara hadn’t actually seen Zeciv in her two months at court but she’d heard plenty of breathless idolizing. She’d chalked it up to exaggerations by the easily impressed. But then Zeciv had walked in with easy grace, projecting the effortless poise of someone who hadn't had to take anything because all had been given to her -- as soft as a woman could get in Hapes. All the adoration suddenly made perfect sense. For Zeciv and her House to have to be eliminated would destabilize the already tense situation between Teneniel and the court. Maybe it might just be the impetus for more direct attempts on her life, not just from Ta’a Chume, but everyone else.

Mara looked on as Zeciv gestured to Teneniel with a friendly smile. She seemed to be waiting for a reply. Teneniel’s face was veiled -- that updo pushed the whole outfit past the usual Hapan excess to the ridiculous -- but her posture by itself gave off an aura of fury. Her Force presence was laden with it enough that Mara prodded her gently to ease off a little. For her part, Zeciv didn’t seem put off by Teneniel at all. She laughed at something a bit self deprecatingly, it appeared to Mara, the sound pleasant and normal. Heads turned.

Mara didn’t envy Zeciv the limelight. She hated the trappings of being an object to be looked at, a soft thing to be twirled about. The days of those pretenses were over. She much preferred where she was, looking without being looked at -- it felt as comfortable as second skin, so much so she didn’t mind the ruse.

Most of the time.

It was all embarrassingly ordinary at base. Centuries of selective breeding occasionally yielded specimens like Zeciv. The problem with being Force bonded was knowing exactly how attractive one’s partner found another.

Luke found Zeciv very attractive.

Objectively, that was neither here nor there, she reminded herself. Attractive was not at a premium in Hapes. Zeciv would neither be the first nor last woman Luke found attractive.

And yet, she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that tonight’s charade bothered her. It irritated her like a buzzing insect. She scoffed at the image. Appropriate given the insistent pressure in her head.

Mara rubbed at her forehead again.

She’d bought herself some measure of mental space by creating something similar to a fold in the thread, but it wasn’t without resistance.The bond was like a misshapen branch seeking to right itself. Let me think this through on my own, she told the thread again, and then I’ll fix you. If she felt it, she was sure Luke probably did too, to some extent. In which case, it was a matter of time before he needled her about it, playing the woefully wronged party to perfection.

At least, between being Isolder’s shoulder to cry on and the dinner display, he seemed busy enough. It meant some reprieve from the mass of hurt that had aggravated her into folding the thread in the first place. She had to finish this, but Luke’s feelings scratching at her insides made it impossible to concentrate. Maybe he could draw focus out of thin air, but _she_ couldn’t, and at this point she’d sooner take a hydrospanner to the head over asking him for anything. The fold was not a cure-all, as the pressure of it reminded her, but between the distance it bought her, and Luke’s attention elsewhere, the evening had upgraded to tolerable.

A shift in the mood of the Queen’s table called her attention. Teneniel’s rush of anger almost had her sending another warning, but Mara noticed Isolder leaning slightly in Teneniel’s direction. He laid his hand on top of hers as he spoke to Zeciv. For once, instead of curbing Teneniel, everything about him radiated menace in concert to hers.

Teneniel's burst of warmth helped her mood a little. Mara thought back to one of Teneniel's admissions at the beginning of her stay.

“I married a man,” she had said. “The crown was just the price I paid for him.”

The more time Mara had spent in the Hapan court with its stifling rules and arbitrary protocol, the more she'd wondered if the price hadn’t been too steep. She had been trained to accept and navigate through those, if in a different setting, but Teneniel hadn’t. It was bleeding her, drop by drop. Mystifying that Isolder couldn’t see it.

The scene at the table called her attention again. Zeciv had gone rigid, but abruptly the set of her shoulders became obsequious. Mara stretched out with the Force -- whatever Zeciv was saying she was serious about. She pulled something from her neck and placed it in front of Luke.

The House pendant.

Mara’s eyebrows raised. How had that happened? Mara had been in Hapes long enough to know that marriage contracts at this level were matters of relations between Houses. True enough, Zeciv was looking at Teneniel beseechingly. And _that_ was something to envy -- Zeciv’s ability to just dismiss the man beside her like he was only an accessory to grab or discard at will.

Mara couldn’t remember anymore what it had been like for Luke Skywalker to mean nothing to her. For hate or love, she’d always been a satellite in his orbit. She would never be anything else. 

The knowledge felt like a stone in her chest. 

She shuffled it away. 

Zeciv offered Luke her hand as the musicians began the overture. He paused for a second, inclined his head minutely. 

Mara cursed under her breath, feeling his light probe of the bond find the fold before melting away. She supposed she should be grateful that she’d gotten this meager amount of peace. 

The music swelled, Luke set off through the dance floor with Zeciv in his arms. Mara didn’t need the Force to know Zeciv was enthralled. She didn’t need the Force to know that once she straightened the bond, she’d feel Luke’s hurt clawing at her insides. Even now, it lingered in wait, a shadow of it under the pressure in her head. 

She ground her jaw. This was her task, the one she’d set for herself once she’d heard of Kirana Ti’s murder. She was here for justice and the rest… 

Mara watched as he moved effortlessly with Zeciv across the dance floor, a hand at her back guiding her along. 

The rest could wait. She would fix it. She would fix everything. Karrde had let her know in no uncertain terms that she had a full time spot in his organization should she want it. He would be thrilled to have her back in that capacity and not for the space of several months here and there. She could do some good there, hadn’t that been how she’d won the _Fire_? Luke would just have to accept it. The Order might need bodies, but not at the cost of them being at odds like this. 

Over at the dance floor Zeciv was was dutifully moved, melting towards Luke, cascade of skirts trailing behind her. Zeciv did overshadow him, this was Hapes after all, but it worked for him somehow to have that breathtaking woman in his arms, eyes darkening at the intimations of power in his touch. Mara had been right, power was the one thing Hapans understood well. Not all, of course. Lady Lis had been blind to the iterations it could take. Neneida had been too young. But Zeciv knew it. 

Mara thought she understood power better than most. She knew the subtleties of control, the layers of restraint that made it a thing of degrees, not absolutes. 

Or she thought she did. Sometimes she felt she knew nothing at all. 

Mara averted her eyes, suddenly longing for the stabilizing warmth of his embrace so much it took her breath away. The feeling took her back to other moments, watching him from afar, cleaved by the hopelessness of wanting him. Even that paled next to watching over his near lifeless form, thinking she’d failed him. It had been purely precautionary, to train, to leave, to do it as many times as it took to show herself she could. She’d just neglected to think he might need her. 

“Stay,” he’d asked after, as if she could have denied him anything then. 

She tried again to return to her old life after finishing her training for a time, but it wasn't the same. 

So she could think at Zeciv, lean against him all you want, but you can’t pay what I’ve paid for him. You're not built for it. 

Luke jolted away from Zeciv, played it off expertly as giving her a twirl, and Mara felt her face grow hot. She was shielding of course, but that gave as much privacy as a gauzy veil as far as the bond was concerned. None of this was real anyway. 

Too easy to forget when Zeciv took his hand in hers and guided him back to the table. Mara had never been that skilled at putting feelings into words, but here with the pressure in her head, just over his hurt, waiting for something to go horribly wrong, the word came with rare ease: misery. 

Luke was suddenly standing and making his way out of the room. Mara kicked into gear, following him through the throng of talking nobles, between the tables. If he’d seen something she hadn’t, he hadn’t indicated it to her, so she was following blind, stretching her own senses. There was still nothing she could read, his mind had gone dim and she had no time for a deeper probe. Given their talk about the murderer, this was perhaps the most alarming fact: he could be shielding so that the perpetrator wouldn’t know he was on the hunt. The fact that the murderer was so well concealed Mara could not sniff them out did not bode well. She could only keep looking through the Force around the room, hoping something would ping. 

She stepped out of the salon, silently cursing, because in paying attention to so many variables, she’d lost track of Luke. 

Mara could still sense where he went, off to the side of the brightly lit hall. The gardens. She went own the stone stairs. She found him just under the terrace beside the stairs. He stared out to the pavilion that glowed off to the far end of the gardens. 

“What is it?” 

“Not sure,” he muttered. “We’ll find out soon enough.” He turned his head to look at her. “Mara, we need to resolve this.” 

Mara blinked at him. “Now? While Zeciv waits?” She’d thought for sure something was bringing them closer to solving this thing. 

“What did you do to the bond?” She attempted to get a read on his feelings, but they were too tangled up to parse. On the equivalent of a cursory glance, anger, hurt, and dismay made the bulk of them. She wasn’t too hopeful the conversation would end well. 

Her lips tightened. “I folded my side of it. Why?” 

“You what?” 

Was he was looking for a translation? “I gave myself some space.” 

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Whatever is out there is a threat and you’re dabbling with your head?” 

“It’s not anything worth getting annoying over.” She inhaled and straightened the fold. The pressure eased up, she braced herself but there was only sweet silence. He’d done her the favor of locking up his feelings and it didn’t feel like she was getting her insides wrung out anymore. This was almost bearable. “There. Can we go back in?” 

He flashed her an exasperated look, but just repeated, “We need to resolve this.” 

“It’s already resolved,” she replied flatly. “What’s left is how you deal with it, and that’s not my problem.” It shouldn’t be. 

“If you quit the Order, you’re throwing away all the good you could do to get back at me--” 

“Oh, spare me the self righteousness,” she snapped. “You care more about looking over my shoulder more than what I could do.” 

“That is not true.” 

She folded her arms. “It’s in evidence here.” 

“No, what’s in evidence here is that you can’t keep a clear head.” He shook his head at her. “I’m not the one tampering with the bond.” 

Her lip curled, she’d been anticipating that. “How am I supposed to do anything with all your mess inside my head?" She didn't allow him to answer. "Or is this a lesson that I need to rely on the great Jedi Master Luke Skywalker to show me the way? What other wisdom do you have to share with a mere mortal like me?” 

“It goes both ways. It's not like you're a sea of tranquility either--but it's not even about that,” he retorted. “It’s about your lying and you and I both know that nothing justifies it.” 

“I couldn’t risk--” 

He lifted a hand as if warding her off. “Nothing justifies it.” 

“I know Hapes--” 

_“Nothing._ You lied to me. And if the shoe had been on the other foot you would have never let it go--” 

That was enough. Mara turned and his hand closed just over her elbow. It should mean nothing, only annoyance, but there was a faint prickle at the contact. “And you know I’m right so you’re running away,” he continued, his hand still at her arm. “It’s what you always do.” 

Mara stretched her arm attempting to shake off his hold. “I am not running away. They’re probably looking for you. It’s called a cover--” 

“How is it that you manage to have the most convenient excuses?” he mused. 

She pulled a bit more, but his grip remained firm. “Not excuses.” 

“How many times did you almost quit the Academy? I’ve lost track.” 

“I did not quit.” She said, gritting her teeth. There was no way to loosen the grip without actually shoving him off and if she did that she’d never hear the end of it. She may as well gift wrap him the victory. Lecturing her on her lack of control was a favorite hobby of his. “I had commitments. Skywalker, if you ruin this for us --” 

“I do wonder if Exar Kun hadn’t shown up if you would have ever finished your training. Is that what it takes for you to stop being selfish?” 

She stopped putting pressure on the arm, whirling to face him, stepped into him, because it took a special kind of blindness to even consider that. “That’s rich.” She hissed inflecting the words with as much scorn as she could manage. Even through the haze of anger what had been a prickle of interest transmuted into an irritating stab of want at the nearness.“Accusing me of selfishness when _my_ autocratic decisions weren't the ones that invited Exar Kun in the first place. Don’t paint yourself as a paragon of brilliant decision making. Maybe you can convince all your sycophants of it, but we both know that’s a --” 

The rest was drowned by his mouth over hers, his hand cupping her face. It’d been too much to hope that he wouldn’t have picked up on it, or that she’d been inured to it. She grasped his shoulders, pressing her tongue into his mouth, and all too quickly he'd managed to back her against the stone wall just under the veranda, not an inch of empty space between them. Perverse that with all the wrong between them, he still fit so well against her. 

He broke off the kiss and his voice was rough at her ear. “A what?” 

She blinked, catching herself. “Lie.” She tilted her head back, and let her arms drop. “A lie.” She turned her head to the stairs beside them. “And you can’t be serious. They’re waiting for us.” 

He slid a hand under her shirt, his hand warm against her skin, and she kept her breathing through sheer force of will, knowing he was baiting her. It was aggravating. They couldn’t afford this. Not now. 

His head had lowered, lips brushing the corner of her jaw, the hand on her midriff sliding off to her side, thumb stroking up her ribs. She didn’t let her breathing change, barely trusted her voice, but said, “This doesn’t change a thing.” 

"It doesn't have to," he murmured. His leg slid between hers and she cursed the preposterous Hapan security uniforms with their flimsy fabric. She cursed the lack of privacy in the bond. 

“They’re going to look for us.” 

"We won’t be gone long.” He nuzzled at a spot just behind her ear, pushing his leg against her and she gave in a fraction of an inch, thighs clenching, and it was a vain hope, of course, that he wouldn’t notice. Mara almost did shove him off, squirmed a little, but realized after half a second that this felt too good, that she was back to the solid pressure of his leg, and more infuriating, that he’d pulled away to look down at her. Mara went stone still, feeling herself flush under a stare that bordered on feral. 

She decided she didn’t much care for it and raised her eyes to meet it dead on. “You wouldn’t dare do this without the bond.” 

His eyebrows raised. “Maybe. Maybe not.” 

She scowled at him and impulsively folded back the bond, keeping herself from wincing at the pressure as the blasted thread went back to trying to right itself. 

He let out a sigh. His hand cupped her breast, now between the shirt and the undergarment, squeezed experimentally before pushing the undergarment up. “I don’t need to be anywhere near your head to know you like this. I know you.” He punctuated the remark with a pinch to her nipple. She gasped, arching right into the press of his leg between hers, a spike of pleasure that left her unable _not_ do it again. 

And fine, if that’s how he was going to play it. Mara brought one of her hands to the back of his head, the other she slid between their bodies to where he was hard against her hip, and greedily took his mouth, swallowing his moan. His palms were at her hips, lifting her up and she brought her hand to his shoulder as he pinned her against the stone wall, thrusting against her through the clothing, and she groaned, pushing her hips back against the contact. 

Incoming presences trickling into her awareness gave her pause. She froze and twisted away until she felt the ground back below her feet, senses alert to the nobles in conversation on the balcony above them just behind the parapet. She’d righted the bond instinctively. Luke pulled away and she’d expected him to be just as alert, but it was only to drop his head to nip at her earlobe. Was he simply too distracted to notice? But tapping more fully into the bond as the hand at her breast slid down, past her midriff under the waistband of her pants, she caught distinctly, a sense that he _didn’t care_. 

With considerable difficulty she recovered her focus, enough to breeze through possible scenarios. They must be a few feet from the veranda above them. If the nobles decided to go down the stairs, it’d be a matter of turning their heads to the side opposite the gardens. All it would take would be a few seconds. 

“That makes you skittish?” There was full-on amusement in it even if it was a whisper alone, and she turned her head away. If he was baiting her for a reaction, he’d have to work harder than that. But his breath was hot against her neck, and even trying to focus on the presences above, she couldn’t contain a shiver at the contrast of it against the chill of the evening air. She felt pulled into too many directions, and forced herself to concentrate on one. 

Above them, the nobles felt distinctly unhurried. The positive was that they seemed to be content where they were. The negative was that they were content were they were -- 

The scrape of Luke’s teeth against her neck brought her back. She hissed, jerking against him, once rational thought was back, jabbed her fingers behind his collarbone going past tease and straight into serious, sending a jolt of very real warning through the bond. Luke muffled his yelp, pulling away to stare at her in alarm, flustered apology flooding through the bond, through his face as he stepped back a few paces. 

She brought a hand to the spot where she could still feel the imprint of his teeth and saw comprehension seep in as she shook her head. 

Watcher would definitely catch it if she came back to court with visible marks. With her hair braided up entirely over her neck, there’d be no way to miss it. It could spread through court like wildfire. Explaining it would be a nightmare. 

Meanwhile, Luke had left her enough room to dart out, and the pieces of her bruised pride beckoned. She managed a respectable three paces before his arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her back. He covered her lips with his, backing her against the wall again, body flush against hers without quarter. 

“We’re not done yet,” he murmured against her mouth. 

It was too quick, and she’d honestly thought she could get away, so she was entirely unprepared. Restraint was a thing to be conditioned and worked for, not something innate, certainly not for her, and certainly not now. Her arms went around his neck, her mouth insistent on his. That was always the problem with giving in just a little. _Just a little_ didn’t exist. 

Loud guffaws broke through her thoughts. More difficult than last time, Mara focused her attention on the nobles above. Luke’s lips were at her neck again, just below her ear, his hand cupped her through the sodden layer of clothing between her legs, and he groaned low against her skin. Just the vibration was something else, but he continued, “I make you this wet?” 

It was stupid. He knew; she’d told him with great precision and detail, but the hand between her legs slid underneath the waistband of that ridiculous uniform, posing a problem for her focus as it moved with practiced strokes, cupping her, teasing her, driving her to short shallow breaths, the heel of his hand against her clit, fingers stroking across her folds, trailing between them in an agonizing tease. As soon as she confirmed that the nobles continued happy where they were, she let her head loll back, arching into his touch. Absent the focus elsewhere, all she wanted were his fingers inside her. Preferably him, but this would do. 

“You keep putting distance between us.” He slid two fingers inside her and she drew a gasping breath. “Even now.” 

“Why? You--” She felt his breathing hitch as she tilted her hips to pull his fingers deeper and clenched around him. He had to start again. “You feel you have to?" He drew another breath. "You don't." 

Luke straightened, eyes locking on her face. Mara knew this as a quirk of his, as if it tapping into the bond wasn’t enough, on a visceral level he wanted to see, wanted to read what he made her feel on her face. She could have looked away, denied him that for so many reasons, but she couldn’t remember what they were. There was some principle to be defended, some larger point, but he had her pulse pounding in her ears, hips grinding against his hand, gripping his shoulder as if it were the only thing keeping her afloat. She only had enough presence of mind to keep her hand over her mouth to keep quiet and stare at his blackened blue eyes, too maddened to see anything but her own need mirrored back to her. 

Luke pressed his forehead against hers and took a shaky breath. “You don't.” 

His fingers twisted slightly inside her and her shoulders snapped back, scraping against the stone wall, as something inside her clenched impossibly tight, the feeling almost like weightlessness for a half second, a shimmer at the edges of her vision. The air she was drawing didn’t seem to be enough, but she knew the instant she pulled her hand away from her mouth she’d moan and never stop. 

She jerked against him when he slid his fingers in again curving them, her entire body trembling at every rhythmic push of his fingers. Sweat prickled at the base of her neck, skin growing damp. He breathed her in, tongue licking up her throat, made a low sound like a growl and she bit down on her hand. 

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t tap into the bond, but she was barely able to breathe, wanting him with a near savage edge -- if she could just let it flow somewhere, find some sort of outlet. She reneged on her promise, sinking into the shared space of their bond, but there was no relief. The intensity of his yearning filled her up, deeper than the slide of his fingers, until she was teeming, overflowing with it, infinitely susceptible, endlessly open and precarious, kept in place only by her death grip on his shoulder, his hand around her waist and the relentless build of her climax. 

“It’s not just you,” he whispered. “It’s not.” 

She was already perilously balanced on her own wanting, the glimpse into his through the bond left her shuddering violently. Knowing well how it felt to push inside of her, the tight clasp of her body, their movements in tandem, skin gliding on skin, how to touch her to make her writhe, to make her keen. He wanted that from her, and more, maybe too much. Luke’s fingers continued thrusting inside of her, thumb occasionally skirting her clit and Mara clamped the hand on her mouth harder. 

His thumb stroked across her clit, swirled around it, pressed down and the shake built up from her thighs up her spine, transformed into a strangled scream in her chest that imploded into a grunt against her hand. Only the arm at her waist and the hard press of his body against the wall kept her from collapsing. When she came down from the rush, breathing labored, head still swimming, Luke’s lips were on hers again and she roused herself to bring her arms around his neck chokingly tight. Impossible that even after all that she still wanted. And she did, so much she _hurt_ with it, as if something within her had shaken loose -- 

“Not you.” Luke broke away, “Me.” 

Mara wasn’t sure what was going on, but sought and found his mouth again. The urgency had died down a little, and his kiss was measured. He drew serenity out of nothing it seemed, but before she knew it she was reaching out, raking through his half woven calm. He broke away to draw a gasping breath, and when he kissed her next it was with abandon, pulling at her pants with her help until they were past her hips, then working on the fastenings of his own while she tore off her hip holster and let it fall on the ground. 

There wasn't much in the way of movement allowed by the pants still around her calves, but she tried, bracketing his hips with her thighs, spreading as much as she could. He hoisted her up and shoved inside her, hard enough that she knew she’d have some respectable bruising where her back hit the wall, but for now there was just the sheer pleasure that flared up from her toes to the back of her head and kept going, sustained through the confusion of the bond’s loop, _she felt tight like she wanted him, like she needed him, like she’d never let him go_. Mara barely registered the beginnings of a cry building in her throat as hers, unbidden it took that small opening and rushed out of her lips, only to be cut short by his hand tight over her mouth. 

Luke pushed inside her again and she wanted to wrap her legs around him, keep him, pull him deeper, but there was the constriction of the fabric bunched just below her knees. She couldn’t breathe enough for all the want she was holding, could only press down with her hips, clench her thighs. She came like that, Luke’s hand wrapped around her waist and his the other clamped over her mouth as his hips drove into her, leaving her shuddering, gushing every moan, every whine, every sob into the feedback loop of the bond. He faltered as she spasmed, pulled concentration enough to take the hand covering her mouth and put it against the wall beside her head for leverage as he came with a moan he muffled against her neck. 

Her breaths were still fast, even after he’d removed his hand from over her mouth, her heart beating wildly. She continued clinging to him, wanted to let go, couldn't. 

“I got you. I got you.” His arms were tight around her back as he lowered her. She forced herself to loosen her grip, steeling herself for the moment where the thread would thin out. It has never hurt, but she has always intuited that it could. Immeasurably. 

It was not always like that. It wasn't even usually like that. Gradually, she got a hold on her calm, Luke holding her throughout, and she thought she should let go, but it was too late for that now. She finally sighed, lulled back into the normal contours of herself. Luke's arms tightened around her again and she shifted away infinitesimally. 

He took the hint and pulled away to fix his clothing. She did the same, crouching to reach for the discarded holster. The tugging from the bond was back, that same disquiet and hurt, maybe slightly less. 

Mara shook her head to clear it and focused on a last check of her clothing. She felt like a mess, sticky and sweaty, her legs a bit shaky, but still stretched her senses to the nobles above. 

“They left a few minutes ago.” Luke was not that much better, hair askew, color high across his face, and kiss swollen lips. 

Luke snaked an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. Mara nodded and leaned against him, pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. There was reserve at his end of the bond, over so much hurt it made her throat constrict, a knot tightening her chest. Mara didn't let herself linger overlong, pulled away to comb a hand through his hair, getting it as passably arranged as she can. She swept a hand down his cheek when she was done. He captured it in his when it fell away and she met his eyes. 

It should be easier to say this now, but it wasn’t. Maybe she was just that selfish. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.” 

His other arm came around her, but he took a while to speak. “You were right. It’s nothing like when we faced C’baoth. Nothing.” 

Mara nodded, but didn’t know what he meant. For her it’d been the simple fact of cutting down a man with Luke’s face to buy her freedom. Such a small thing back then and now...inconceivable. She was taken back to looking over at him as he lay prone, the light from the temple’s skylight washing over his face. She closed her eyes. She couldn't have chosen otherwise. 

Luke was still speaking. “I keep thinking at one moment you’re next to me --” he broke off and shook his head. “You would really step down from the Order?” 

She nodded again, slower this time. That was the poison, after all. She would cut it out for both of them. They’d be stronger for it, and maybe one day it could be different. “I have to.” 

As much as she was loathe to, she would explain more, and there was a part of her that wanted to put it to words --that needed to parse it with him -- but the opportunity never came. He released her hand and shifted away. 

She couldn’t assimilate it. It felt as if she’d been had. She stayed utterly still for a few moments, then ventured over the build of pressure right behind her sternum, “I apologize and this? Nothing?” 

“Not nothing,” he said after a moment. “You accepted that you were wrong, that’s a positive step.” 

She had to take several calming breaths. “Positive step? I can’t believe you.” 

“You would leave the Order on a whim--” 

“It’s not a whim.” 

“Because I lead it -- out of spite. It’s not an issue of accepting leadership. You have no problem with Karrde.” 

She lifted a hand. “Stop talking before you continue saying moronic things.” 

He glared at her but stayed quiet. 

“I have a working relationship with Karrde. I have a personal relationship with you.” 

“Which is why we should work better.” 

She shook her head. “No. It’s why we don’t _work_ , not like this. And why we shouldn’t.” 

“You can’t keep compartmentalizing like that.” 

“Right because the alternative is obviously such a good idea. It’s going swimmingly here.” 

“You’d be doing things by halves.” The unspoken _not enough_ crawls right under her skin. It’s the opposite. Always. He'd take everything if she let him. “Just like you’re doing everything. Half with Karrde, half with the Order. It’s the same with us half hidden--” 

She couldn't keep her voice from raising. He was giving her no choice. “You’re in my head!” 

It didn’t even slow him down. “And you’re in mine! It’s a _bond_ , not a mindlink. You’ve always known that -- if anything, you’ve shown yourself more than capable of manipulating it at will. It may just as well mean nothing to you.” 

Mara closed her eyes. She wouldn’t apologize for folding the thread. Not that. Some things had to be hers. "You know that’s not true.” His remark stung regardless, buttressed as it was by so much hurt. “I apologized.” 

He gazed at her, there might be a plea for something, but right now all she felt was a widening gulf. “What do you want from me then, Mara? If you’re asking for me to approve of your choices, I won’t. I can’t.” 

“I’m not asking you to approve of anything.” She wasn’t going to put herself out a second time. Not now. “That’s why I’m stepping down.” 

“If you don’t want to be accountable to anyone but yourself, quitting will not solve it.” 

“No, it won’t,” she granted. “But it will even the playing field. That’s good enough. I can’t -- ” to her horror her voice broke, there was too much pressure in her chest. She turned away, covering her face with her hands. She just wanted it to stop. 

“Mara.” She felt it keenly that he wanted to reach for her, it was tearing at him just as her, but she couldn't have it, not now. This is bigger than her, than them. She shut her eyes tight, focusing on her breathing, reaching for that center of focus. The pressure ebbed bit by bit and she squared her shoulders. 

“We’ve been out here too long.” She turned to him. “Any longer they’ll come looking for you.” 

He did her the favor of burying his feelings. She was thankful. Over the depth of the hurt, across the gulf between them there was still a fixed point. She would do right by it somehow. 

After. 

“Go ahead,” he said softly. “I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Mara nodded and turned to make her way back to the main hall. She sensed Watcher before the woman appeared in her line of sight. 

“Lady Olanji is wondering where the honored guest is.” Her mouth twisted in her usual disapproval. 

“That’s what I was just checking.” Mara gestured to the gardens, ignoring the way Watcher's eyes roved over her looking for flaws. “Needed some air apparently.” 

Watcher's scrutiny was beginning to annoy her, enough that she groped for a distraction. “They looked good together, no?” 

It seemed to work. Her curiosity flared up and Watcher cocked her head. “I suspect the Jedi Master might have a predilection for softer women than what Hapes has to offer.” She waved a hand. “Like all offworlders. But what kind of trifling matters are these, _chume’doro_? I would think someone of your station would know better than to concern herself with idle speculation. You have a task before you, do you not?” 

Mara went through a quick calming exercise. Forget rainbow gems. Obnoxious, self important delusional twits were as Hapan as it got. 

“While your protectee takes air, you might want to go to the staff refreshers to fix your braid." Watcher narrowed her eyes. "The state of the back is truly deplorable. However did you ruin it so?” 

Mara brought a hand to it and lowered her head, embarrassment blossoming at her mistake. She hadn't even considered her own hair might be a mess. “I’m--I’m not sure. I must have braided it carelessly. Apologies, Watcher, I’ll take care of it right away.” 

She dashed towards the staff 'freshers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, _Jade's Fire_ happens in 18ABY, but I used it as a flag back in ch1 so consider that some more timeline futzing.  
>  Sorry to disappoint with no plot movement, but alas I have never made any bones about the kind of fic I'm writing here. Plot will return in grand fashion next part! It has been drafted just needs massive editing. Send good vibes my way, it has been a pain to write and will probably be even more painful to edit.
> 
>  
> 
> As always thanks so much for reading! *waves*


	9. The M'onnok

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For better or worse, here is when it all hits the fan. One more chapter and we’re doooooneeee. I'm going on vacation to tomorrow and I refuse to sit on this anymore. So here it is, warts, melodramatic atmosphere and all. 
> 
> I guess a tad bloodier than canon, but not by much I don't think. As usual, thanks for hanging in there. So...close...!

“An illusion.” The Queen whipped her head around as if searching. “Nightsisters.”

The Chume’da pulled away from Astarta’s grip. “Where?”

Watcher stood shakily. She licked her dry lips. “Majesty--”

“Not now, Watcher.” The Chume’da put a hand on the Queen’s arm. “Where?”

“I don’t know.” 

Watcher shook her head. Nothing made sense.

The royal couple turned back to the arena where the rancor snapped at the Jedi. Behind him, the beastmaster scrambled to his feet and all but leapt into the doors of the partition wall where some of the stage hands hauled him inside.

From the sides of the pavilion more screaming tore through the air.

“Locked!” 

“The doors are locked!”

Between the cries and the rancor’s roars, the whole scene had acquired a hazy quality.

The Queen’s hand clenched into a fist a second before a strong voice spoke from below. “This is how your barbarian Queen deals with Houses. Will you take this?”

Too fast. Watcher closed her eyes, recognizing the former queen’s voice. Everything was happening at once.

Gasps moved through the crowd.

Watcher took a step towards the railing. Ta’a Chume, resplendent in her midnight blue dress, addressed the nobles even as the guards were pushing the crowd away from the stands. For once, she wore no veil. 

Ta’a Chume had never needed one, truth be told. There was never anything but ruthlessness to read on her face. 

“You are not welcome here!” the Chume’da was shouting down. He turned to Astarta without preamble. “Take her away. I knew we should have sealed -- ” He broke off when the blue-clad Olanji guards stepped forward to block Astarta and the remaining two royal guards from leaving the platform, hands conspicuously over the blasters at their hips. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he seethed.

“This is treason,” Astarta warned.

“That,” the Olanji guard before her said, “was murder.” 

Watcher laid her hands on the railing, feeling numb as the pandemonium intensified among the nobles, the guards of various Houses coming into the fray to protect their own. How had the situation degraded so fast? Why would the Queen have murdered Zeciv Olanji in cold blood hours after she’d pledged her House’s loyalty? 

In the arena, the Jedi was still swiping at the rancor which roared its frustration.

The Olanji guards...Watcher closed her eyes. After such a display they would have no choice but to back Ta’a Chume.

Ta’a Chume spread her hands. “Zeciv Olanji lies dead before me. The Queen’s beast seeks to crush you all. She has trapped you here to die. _Now_ will you stand with me?” 

“That was not Lady Olanji!” Watcher was surprised to see the Chume’da shouting. Beside him, the Queen’s unfocused eyes appeared to look for things unseen.

Ta’a Chume raised her voice. “Will the House of Olanji do nothing?”

Astarta drew her blaster and _that_ pulled Watcher from her daze. Watcher threw herself on the ground behind some chairs as several shots rang out. When the smoke cleared, the Olanji guards that had been in the platform were sprawled out on the floor...along Ubris and Darina. 

Their own.

Watcher looked away. Her ears still echoed with blaster fire. Too fast. All too fast.

“Most _chume’doro_ are trying to protect the crowd.” Astarta spoke in a rush. “All the guards know this. Only the Olanji have cause--” She was crouching down before the royal couple who had taken cover behind some chairs a few feet from the railing. Astarta’s eyes were on the two exits at either side of the platform. “We can’t--” 

The crunch of boots cut her off. 

Watcher dared another look at the arena. The rancor was worse for wear, its right forelimb nearly fingerless and brought tight against its chest, but it still had plenty of fight left. 

And Mara? What could be more important than protecting the Queen? 

The former queen emerged from the stairwell flanked by six Olanji guards. Still crouching behind some chairs at the end of the platform, Watcher saw her grace the royal couple with a reptilian smile as they stood to face her. 

The Queen’s eyes were still unfocused, but the Chume’da had enough fury for the both of them. He appeared seconds away from diving forward to wrap his hands around his own mother’s neck, his hands curled into fists at either side of him.

Ta’a Chume addressed the Queen. “Your court lies in shambles, barbarian Queen and your Jedi won’t be able to save you.” She brought a finger to her lips, feigning considering something. “But you still have your homeland.” She spread her palm as if she were offering it. “Abdicate and I’ll let you return to it.”

The Queen shook her head, eyes less distant, but still cloudy. “You have no power to do this.”

The Chume’da didn’t bother with threats. “Traitor.”

Ta’a Chume’s eyes narrowed at him. “I won’t take any of your insolence today, Isolder.” 

“Is that why you killed my brother? Too _insolent_ ?”

Ta’a Chume gestured. Astarta moved to block, but by then it was too late.

A pulse of red as blaster shot rang out and the Chume’da collapsed. Watcher screamed again. Dimly, she heard the Queen yell the Chume’da’s name and saw her crouch down. Behind Ta’a Chume one of the guards crumpled to the floor. 

Ta’a Chume extended a restraining hand to the guards. 

Astarta shifted the smoking muzzle of her blaster towards the former queen, moving more fully in front of the royal couple.

When the Queen looked up from the Chume’da’s burnt shoulder, there was the promise of reprisal in her glare, flecks of orange coming into her brown eyes. “And you dare call me barbaric.”

But Ta’a Chume only looked at the Queen. “You will abdicate and return to Dathomir with your kin--” 

The Chume’da shook his head. “Liar.” He gritted his teeth. “You’re giving her...to them...”

Ta’a Chume cocked her head. “Of course. How she returns to Dathomir is not my concern." 

The former queen looked in the Jedi’s direction. Watcher followed her gaze. The Jedi’s blade moved to fast for Watcher to make out individual slashes, but the rancor was limping. She allowed herself the hope that he might incapacitate the animal and come to their aid before it was too late.

“I would think you’d be thrilled to return to that mud hole you call home,” Watcher heard Ta'a Chume say. "Leave the ruling to those with the stomach for it."

From behind, there came another roar. One more rancor darted out into the arena, saddled but riderless. 

Watcher’s insides knotted. Suddenly, a figure in red --a guard -- was on the move, jumping on the footholds at the partition wall and landing on the arena before the second rancor. 

Mara.

The Jedi tossed something and the object fell, except mid-fall it swooped to her outstretched hand. A blue blade ignited. 

The rancor reached towards her and she whirled away, leaving the rancor to smash through the partition wall.

No one was actually at the stands anymore, thankfully. The nobles, servants, and performers had slunk back towards the pavilion walls, the guards forming the boundary line to them, weapons at the ready.

Useless, Watcher thought remembering how ineffective they’d been. If the Jedi fell nothing would be of any use. 

Mara ran back into the center of the arena. Once the rancor had put space between it and the partition wall, she veered left, diving into a roll between her rancor’s enormous legs. She grabbed a hold of one of the thick saddle strings and scaled up the rancor’s back with the agility of a malia on the hunt. The rancor shook its head trying to dislodge her. Mara appeared to lose her foothold, that is, until she whirled her blade light side down, burying it off to one side of the beast’s eyes like a pickaxe to stop her fall. The rancor screeched, falling forward and she pushed herself off with a backflip. The rancor hit the ground hard enough to make the pavilion walls shake. It convulsed then went still. 

The rancor beside it paused mid-roar, confused by the fallen body of its companion.

Mara was already running to get her blade. After a glance at the Jedi, she bolted with the blade in hand towards the acrobats’ towering rigging structure at the far end of the ring. 

The Jedi had taken advantage of the rancor’s confusion to finish hamstringing it. The remaining rancor collapsed with an impotent roar, alive, but unable to pursue. The Jedi took off after Mara.

He didn't get far. The Jedi turned just in time to catch two streams of blue lightning crackling towards him on his blade. Three black cloaked figures had advanced into the arena through the collapsed partition wall. Mara looked back for a moment, but then doubled in speed, and she began climbing up the structure.

Ta’a Chume voice drew Watcher’s attention back. “Take out the Queen’s guards,” she told Olanji guards beside her. 

“No!” It might have been the Queen or perhaps Astarta.

A guard shouted orders into her earpiece. Watcher saw figures in the Olanji blue uniform move in through the stands, seconds before the glow lamps around the pavilion burst one by one 

Screaming intensified below as the pavilion was plunged into darkness marred only by the bright lines of blaster bolts. The solid thump of boots and the sound of scuffles around the platform prompted Watcher to burrow herself back behind the seats.

Off in the distance by the aerial rig, something exploded, the burst of it like fireworks during the Festival of Lights, engulfing all the sounds of blaster fire for a few seconds. A massive fireball seemed to coil out of nothing, then winked out just as quickly. The strident sound of the firefight returned soon after.

At first, Watcher could barely hear it, but with the passing of seconds she picked out a voice intoning and repeating a phrase in a language Watcher couldn’t understand. During the third repetition Watcher realized the voice was the Queen’s. A shimmer above caught her eye. She might have imagined it, but the darkness gradually melted away -- until a fine glow of illumination extended from the Queen’s box outwards, growing brighter as it did.

Watcher blinked. The Olanji guards were sprawled on the ground all around the platform. With relief, Watcher noticed that Astarta and the Chume’da were nowhere to be seen. 

At the opposite side of the platform, Ta’a Chume’s expression betrayed nothing at losing her protection. She seemed to...wait.

Watcher stood and approached the railing where the Queen was surveying the firefight. Red-clad guards were dispersed throughout the stands and away from the crowd backed up against the walls. 

Off the corner of her eye, Watcher saw part of the partition wall lift and fly towards the Jedi. One of the black cloaked figures fell back and the piece moved in the direction in which she gestured. 

“You will be dealt with publicly.” The Queen, wholly present now, turned to address Ta’a Chume. “The way we do with traitors.”

Ta’a Chume stared back impassively. “There is no we, barbarian Queen. You will never be one of us.”

"You've brought evil to my court, Ta'a Chume," The Queen said matter-of-factly. "After my Jedi and I cleanse it, you'll find that it will be _you_ who is no longer one of us."

The Jedi was kept busy with the attacks from the two assailants, but Mara...Watcher craned her neck to the walkway just a few feet from the topmost point of the pavilion. She could pick out the red of Mara’s guard uniform. 

A dark haired figure in a black tunic stood a few feet away from her. It lifted a hand and some of the the light fixtures broke off from the rig perpendicular to it and hurtled in Mara’s direction. The assailant took advantage of the distraction to jump down to the tightrope that crossed the pavilion. Watcher swallowed. The rope ended scarcely a few feet from the Queen’s platform. 

The assailant was coming for the Queen.

Mara’s blade was lit in a split second and she swung it down, sliding herself forward as the blade cut the light fixture cleanly in two. She passed through a space that opened between the pieces as she jumped down in pursuit of the figure. 

Once Mara realized the assailant would make it to the end of the tightrope soon, she sliced down with her blade, reaching out to grab the rope beside it. The pulley it was attached to would take her across the arena, but had less reach than the tightrope, ending just before the partition walls. 

The assailant moved quickly, but the rope was falling away, its robes fluttered as the figure launched itself off--

Watcher did not see it anymore, but the Queen took a step back, folded her hands and began chanting. Watcher felt her heart in her throat. Surely, the assailant had fallen. All the same, she reached for one of the discarded blasters beside one of the prone guards. 

Wind picked up around them -- impossibly. Soon it was whipping around the platform. Watcher moved closer to the Queen in time to see a hand dart out and forcibly pull up from the railing. And a face. 

A ghastly face.

The page she had seen months back as part of Ta’a Chume’s retinue. Her disfiguring bruises were impossible to forget. The shock of it made Watcher drop the blaster and up it went, swept up by the furious wind.

The Queen chanted louder, the surging air buffeted the chairs and bodies at the end of the platform. Ta’a Chume narrowly avoided one chair slamming into her as they took flight. 

Somehow the page managed to claw her way into the platform. 

“You said she was unpracticed!” she snarled at Ta’a Chume.

The former queen’s dress billowed as she stepped further towards the back of the platform and away from the wind. “You’ll have to adapt!”

Watcher didn’t know how the page could cross the platform to where Ta’a Chume was with the whirlwind that the Queen was conjuring, but she was, albeit slowly.

The page’s hand slashed out once she’d reached Ta’a Chume. There was the glint of a dagger and Ta’a Chume’s disbelief as she fell back to a sitting position on the floor.

The Queen’s eyes grew wide. The rushing wind let up.

"I intend to." The page took her bloodstained blade and wiped the flat of it on her hand. She smeared it on her face, letting the blade fall beside Ta’a Chume. 

She clucked her tongue. “All that hate wasted on the ungifted. Her dying terror at least had some use.”

The Queen’s face contorted in disgust. She took a step back. “Foul blood magic.”

“The most powerful kind.” The page bared her teeth and looked around the platform. Watcher shrunk towards the back of the platform opposite to where Ta'a Chume lay. “Now, where is your pretty consort? It really is a pity-- ” she broke off, a curious look flashing over her face.

The Queen took another step back, she closed her eyes and started murmuring again.

The page crouched down and dipped her hand in the pool of blood that had formed beside Ta’a Chume and drew a symbol on the floor. She also intoned some sort of chant as she stood and neared the Queen.

The Queen’s eyes opened and there was an expression that made Watcher recoil. Fear.

“Not deficient, after all, it seems.” The page neared the Queen and let out a liquid laugh. “I was wondering where you drew your strength. Being so far from home..., well, blood magic might be a poor substitute but at least it has no bounds. Tell me Sister Teneniel is it a seed? Or is it a child?”

The Queen pressed her lips together. 

“There is power to draw from your resistance, too. The fear in it. The futility. No one can break a truth spell once it’s anchored in blood. Go on.”

“A child,” the Queen’s voice passed through her gritted teeth.

Watcher’s head was reeling. She couldn’t mean...Ta’a Chume’s body was only a few feet away. So was the bloodied dagger. Watcher inched forward, ignoring the cold panic gnawing at her insides. 

Queen was whispering something.

A crackling sound rose, but Watcher just concentrated on the dagger on the floor.

“A shame. We would have happily raised her like one of our own,” the page was saying. “But we have tired of waiting. We do offer you a gift, Sister Teneniel: your court in ashes.” She inhaled deeply. “All this fear is more than we could have dreamed. You think the Hapans will worship us once we are through?”

The heir of Hapes, was all Watcher could think. Her hands closed on the dagger. The new Chume’da.

A potential queen.

Watcher’s heart was beating so loudly, it was a wonder the page didn’t hear it. Where was Mara? Watcher could buy the Queen only a few seconds, if that.

Less, it turned out.

The page’s head turned, her bloodshot eyes focused on Watcher and the hand holding the dagger exploded in pain. All she could do was cry out and try not to look at the sickening state of her hand.

Even as the world around her felt awash in gnashing agony, she realized the Queen was screaming something. The page vanished from Watcher’s line of sight. Wind slapped Watcher’s face, hard enough to make her close her eyes. She feels herself be pulled forward. 

The floor was cold under her cheek. Her hand?

She would not think of it.

Darkness beckoned, but Watcher gathered enough strength to lift her head. The Queen was holding a hand to her throat, her eyes are shut tight. On the opposite end of the platform from where the Queen struggled with an unseen hand at her neck, the page had a wicked looking gash across her face, an eye almost swollen shut, but she was clenching her fist with palpable glee.

The numbness Watcher had felt scarcely moments ago returned. The Queen would die, yes. But they all would, wouldn’t they?

A flash of blue jarred her.

The page jumped back, letting out a howl. 

The Queen dropped to the ground gasping for air. Watcher dragged herself forward towards her.

“ _Jai_.” The page’s voice is surprisingly strong for her wound. “This is not your fight.”

“You _made_ it our fight the moment you murdered Kirana Ti.” Mara’s voice, Watcher recognized. She looked up to find her several feet away in front of the Queen, her blade held at en garde position. And the page…

The page seemed to have lost an arm at the elbow.

Watcher continued to crawl towards the Queen, trying to ignore the excruciating throb of her hand.

A strident screech of grinding metal broke through the air, a ground-shaking crash and more screaming followed in its wake, but Watcher couldn’t summon neither the strength nor the will to look over the railing. She had reached the Queen whose brow furrowed once her eyes scanned her wound. 

Watcher thought the Queen would say something, but there was a harsh crackling sound once more. She whirled to see the page raise her good arm. Lightning materialized out of her hand to be intercepted by Mara’s blade, the impact shoving Mara several paces back. 

“Kirana Ti was a witch, not a _Jai_.”

Mara drilled her leg into the ground, pushing back against the witch’s energy with her whole body. “It never occurred to you she could be both?”

The lightning seemed to intensify, the tendrils thickening into a current. The Queen closed her eyes and her lips moved in another chant. Watcher turned again to look at Mara and the page.

“She screamed like a Daughter of Allya. Her blood--” In two quick strides, Mara had crossed over to the page, mindless of the tendrils of blue lightning fizzling around her and seized the page by her tunic, holding her blade over her throat. Watcher couldn’t assimilate how the lightning wasn’t affecting her. The Queen continued chanting.

She’d expected Mara to run the page with her blade.

Instead, Mara turned towards the railing. 

“Nightsisters!” she called, holding her blade over the page’s throat and stepping behind her.

Watcher slowly lifted her head for a look. The aerial rig had fallen and was half off to the side of the partition wall, the other half was on top of the first rancor. Incapacitated before, it must surely be dead now -- what she could see of it under the rig lay as quiet and still as the second.

The whole arena was barely recognizable, strewn with debris and parts of the rig. The assailants had doffed their cloaks, revealing themselves as three women, the first with with grey streaked auburn hair and one with flaxen hair, the third, raven haired, was balanced on one of the beams from the fallen rig. The first two women were still launching streams of lightning to the Jedi, but they looked up at Mara’s voice. The snag in concentration seemed to be what he needed. He spun out of their attack, landing a kick at the closest witch to him -- the flaxen haired one. The impact flung her back against the partition wall. The third jumped down from her perch to take her fallen comrade’s place. 

“I would never ask for mercy,” the page was growling, making a fist.

“Good,” Mara answered. Her voice sounded oddly strained even though the page wasn’t struggling. “You’d get none.”

With one shove, her blade went through the page’s neck smoothly, both body and head tumbled down the railing. Watcher turned her head.

At the arena, the first witch’s face crumpled in rage. She lifted her hands. The roof made a scraping sound. Again, cries rose in pitch from where the court was pressed against the doors.

The other witch attacking the Jedi lifted her hands as well.

“Teneniel!” Mara shouted.

The Queen intoned another chant. She stood, lifting her arms, and dust picked up in the arena. The Jedi backflipped onto the partition wall, the first witch skittered towards the downed rig as the wind stormed faster and faster until a whirlwind formed in the arena. The raven-haired witch was not as well protected and went flying out of the vortex, raised more than several yards in the air.

The Queen went silent and the wind stopped. The witch plunged to the ground several meters below, landing in a heap.

The scraping sound was back above them. The first witch had stood, the flaxen haired one with her.

“She’s powerful.” The Queen tipped her chin to the one with gray streaked hair. “If she brings the dome down, all of this will be for nothing.” She fixed her eyes on Mara. “How are you?”

Watcher noticed for the first time Mara’s uniform was torn in several places, charred and burnt in many others. She sported bruises and cuts throughout her face and much of the revealed skin where her uniform had torn or been burned away.

She rubbed at her throat. “I’m fine. Can you hold the roof?”

Worry darkened the Queen’s face. “Some.”

Mara cursed. She squatted beside Watcher. “Hey, you know the passageways--”

“I’m not leaving my court.”

Mara’s head snapped up to the Queen. “Soon there might not _be_ a court.” 

“Doesn’t matter.”

Mara helped Watcher up and she couldn’t help a whimper at the pain the movement triggered. “You’re going to have to use a pain suppression spell on her.” Mara said to the Queen. “But you need to get out. Now.”

The Queen shook her head. “And show the sovereign of Hapes as a coward?”

“Majesty,” Watcher wheezed. “The heir--”

“Don’t risk your House and your legacy, Teneniel,” Mara said flatly. “It’s stupid.”

“We know all about foolish risks, now don’t we?” 

Mara shook her head at her. “Fine. Stay out of sight and keep what you can of that roof up.”

“What will you do?”

Mara’s gaze went to the arena to the two women remaining. “I’m going to try and be the m'onnok.” 

It made no sense to Watcher. What did Socorrian beasts have to do with anything? It made even less sense when she put a hand over the railing, threw her legs over and jumped down. Mouth agape, Watcher leaned over to see Mara sprint across the stands to the partition wall. In the arena, one witch approached the Jedi while the other raised her hands.

Watcher forced herself to turn back to the Queen. “Majesty--”

“I swear on Allya herself, Watcher, if _you_ try to protect me. I will slap a sleep spell on you and drag your limp body downstairs by your feet when all this is done.” The Queen murmured in that strange language and extended her hand to Watcher’s mangled one. Watcher fought the impulse to take a step back, but as soon at the Queen’s hand touched hers the pain receded to a memory.

“That is what I can do for now.” Watcher was going to respond, but the scraping sound above had become more violent. Watcher looked up, but lowered her head just as quickly, wiping at her face as dust fell in her eyes.

Not dust, Watcher corrected herself, blinking furiously. Bits of the plasteel. 

The Queen lifted her hands, palms upwards and began chanting once more.

Watcher approached the railing. 

The Jedi was again locked in combat with the witch as she pushed streams of lightning his way. The second continued chanting with fevered intensity to the plasteel ceiling above. From the way she moved, Watcher thought she might be hurt. Mara again scaled the border of the arena.

A huge piece of the ceiling gave out. Watcher’s breath caught in her throat.

The piece _froze_ midair. Watcher looked at the Queen. Her voice was getting louder.

Mara jumped down from the wall as another large piece broke away, the high moons beginning to come into view. Again, Watcher smelled ozone, but this time lightning snapped from overhead, stabbing into the ground through the gaps in the ceiling making the rest of the pavilion shake, leaving charred, smoking ground where it hit.

Bit by bit the jagged bolts drew closer to the Jedi. The last pierced the ground less than a foot from where he stood, the static charge making his hair stand on end, forcing him to divide his attention between batting away the first witch’s lightning and avoiding getting hit by the errant strikes from above.

As Mara ran towards the witches, the raven haired witch switched her lightning attack from the Jedi to her. Mara ducked under the attack, gestured with a hand and one of the pieces of the ceiling dashed down towards the witch. The witch raised her own hand in a warding gesture and the block of plasteel was thrown towards the opposite side of the arena where it crashed into the partition wall, taking it down. 

The first witch stopped her attack on the Jedi and darted back. In unison, she and the other lifted their palms up to the sky. Wind picked up in the arena in front of them along with several bursts of lightning. Watcher’s eyes widened as the wind grew more violent, kicking up a wall of dust. In the midst of it, the Jedi flicked his wrist and one of the huge aluminum beams broke free from the rigging structure. The beam launched itself at the first witch, but she spun out of the way easily, and whirled her arm in an arc. The Jedi was thrown back, colliding with the debris from the rig and the scattered bits partition wall. Only his sudden deceleration prevents him from smashing into the remaining part partition wall. He got to his feet, and even from where Watcher stood, she thought him dazed. The first witch raised her arms again.

A few yards away, the flaxen haired witch was reaching a hand to summon her lightning, but her attack went too high. Mara ducked underneath it, swept a leg and the witch went sprawling. Mara whirled and slashed down with her blade as the witch got to her feet. After that, the second witch didn’t rise. 

The maelstrom died back down to strong wind. 

Small pieces of the ceiling crumbled and fell down like hail. 

Watcher turned her head to where the Queen continued chanting loudly, sweat beading on her brow. She shook from the effort she was expending.

The remaining witch kept her arms lifted as she intoned her own spell. Cracks flowered along the sides of the dome.

A huge piece of the dome swooped towards the platform and Watcher only had time to pull the Queen down by her skirt before it slammed into the back of the wall.

The Queen’s expression was stricken once she realized what had occurred. She took a breath and closed her eyes, resuming her spell. 

Watcher bit her lip. The scene below at the pavilion's walls was growing more chaotic as the court pushed uselessly against the locked doors. Mara was right, the passageways remained. There was one just below the platform, hidden behind the stands. No doubt Astarta and the Chume’da had fled through it, that was some comfort, small as it was. There might be hope for the Queen still. Watcher’s eyes were on her as she chanted. 

To risk her life and her heir’s for a court that had never accepted her. That made no sense.

One thing was for certain -- if the Queen should perish under these circumstances, it was only right that her court as well. Watcher could accept that. She approached the railing again.

Mara was beside the Jedi, she was about to take a step forward towards the remaining witch, but narrowly stopped herself, focusing on the pieces of the dome overhead. 

More pieces came down, one moving as if tossed to the masses of servants and nobles pressed against the walls. It stopped harmlessly, then lowered slowly before them. All except one.

The Queen was screaming her chant, her voice barely audible over the crescendo of agitation below.

And with a resounding crash the roof completely gave out.

From where she stood, Watcher saw the reluctance with which the Jedi placed a hand on Mara shoulder, falling back from the witch.

In a flash of insight, Watcher remembered that the m'onnok was a major piece in dejarik. An offensive piece.

The next happened in quick succession.

Mara rushed the witch. The lightning extending towards her was different, seemingly pulled from the sky, not just materializing from the witch’s hand. It was a targeted strike to her blade, the blade vanished into a cloud of sparks. 

The loss of her blade didn’t slow Mara down. She smashed the hilt against the witch’s head, throwing her back. The witch fell into a roll, raising her arm when she sprang up.

Lightning hit down scant steps from the Jedi.

Mara once again shot toward the witch. She threw her arm and Watcher saw the gleam of a blade.

The witch batted it away, but Mara was upon her, silver at her hand. The witch ducked out of Mara’s path, called the fallen blade to her hand and slashed at Mara’s exposed left side. Mara didn’t quite spin out of the way in time, but still managed to reach back with a thrust of her own. The witch parried with her own dagger, but Mara’s leg darted out, kicking the witch behind her knee. The witch’s leg bent and she dropped to one knee, but not before bringing her arm up, not only blocking the hit, but, more incredibly, sending Mara staggering back a few feet.

The witch rose and made a gesture. Mara fell with a cry. She looked down at her leg as if it had betrayed her. 

“A capable warrior. But not so strong as a _Jai_. Recently ascended?"

She snapped her finger and Mara doubled over. She attempted to get back to her feet.

“You put quite a performance with my acolyte. It’s only fair I return the favor.” She gestured again.

Mara’s hand went to her forehead. She swayed and collapsed.

The Jedi was several paces behind her. He hadn't moved, but the fragments of the ceiling shook, sank a bit, and the crowd grew more panicked.

The witch seized Mara by the crown braid, yanking her up. Alarmingly, she hung limply, even when the witch pressed the blade of her dagger against her bared throat. 

“Who will die first, _Jai_ ?” the witch yelled and Watcher knew she was addressing the Jedi. “The acolyte or everyone else?”

A deep sound like the trum of thunder erupted from overhead. 

The witch’s head snapped up just as everyone else’s did. Where there were panels and pieces of plasteel there was a dense cloud that rippled along the dome and went down the sides. 

The pavilion, Watcher thought, was _disintegrating_.

Just then, Mara's eyes opened, her hand swung upwards from her temple, stabbing up just under the witch’s chin. 

She must have had some weapon Watcher couldn’t see. The witch screamed, her body suddenly consumed by purple flame, the blast of it flinging Mara up in the air.

The pins, a guard's poisoned hairpins.

An unseen hand caught Mara on the arc down. With her limbs limp at her sides, Watcher thought she looked like a broken doll. Mara was brought down gently on one of the few remaining clear areas on the ground, the Jedi rushing to where she lay.

The Queen herself dashed out from the platform, Watcher shaking herself and going after her as she went down the stairs. The stands were not in much better shape than the arena, debris and bodies strewn throughout. Watcher kept her gaze forward, pushing the roil of her stomach aside in favor of noting that the Queen’s dress was torn at the knees. She must have done that when she pulled the Queen down. Watcher followed the Queen as she wove through the obstructions, until she came to the destroyed partition wall. 

In the distance, the Jedi cradled Mara.

Watcher let the Queen go on ahead. It was not cold at all, but she shivered. The Jedi had reduced the pavilion to scarcely more than ash.

A more disquieting thought came after. If the Jedi turned his resentment on the court for Ta’a Chume’s actions, he could destroy them all in the same manner. 

She looked around to where past the mounds of plasteel flakes she could see the palace gardens and the lights of the Fountain Palace.

The Queen was all that stood in between him and them, she thought as the flakes of plasteel continued to glide down like white particles in a snow globe. Everything had gone impossibly quiet, the groups of nobles, servants, performers, and guards rendered dumb by the spectacle. 

The Queen’s cry marred the silence, sharp and ragged, and it didn’t stop. The hairs in the back of Watcher’s neck prickled.

The Jedi did not react to it. He turned Mara’s face gently--there was no resistance at all, her head simply lolled to the side, and Watcher saw that blood trickled from her nose. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to hers as his eyes fell closed. 

The Queen stopped a few steps before reaching them. Watcher wondered if she was apprehensive of seeing Mara’s fallen body up close or perhaps she was giving the Jedi some measure of privacy. 

Slowly, the high sounds of the Queen Mother’s voice rearranged themselves into a pattern, bit by bit. As they did, her voice grew stronger, and clearer until it reverberated through the night air. 

When Watcher thought about it later she would dismiss as part of the shock of the night or maybe a trick of the milky light, but at that moment as the bits from the dome continued drifting down, the Queen’s body seemed to glow. 

The Queen wasn’t weeping anymore, as she’d originally thought. What she was doing was even stranger. 

She was singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The m'onnok](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/M%27onnok)


	10. Dispossessions

The state death rites were held in the palace grounds directly opposite from where the pavilion had stood. 

It was already dusk, and was to be one of the rare nights where only one moon's crescent would be visible in the Hapan sky. A repulsor craft bearing an ornate arrangement of flowers headed the procession, preprogrammed and guided by an autopilot mechanism, the flowers all representing the guards and nobles who had fallen under Ta’a Chume’s play for the throne three days ago. 

The Queen walked alone behind it, wearing a green lizard hide tunic, a flowing gold cloak over it, the rainbow gems set in her hair like a diadem. The Queen had selected her ensemble herself and for once, no one in the court seemed given to aspersions over it. Lizard hide would not have been Watcher’s first choice, but there were more pressing matters at the moment.

Behind the Queen, walked the royal consort, Prince Isolder, alongside Astarta, the rest of the Royal Guard behind them. The groups of advisers, pages, and servants that made up the Queen’s House were next, Watcher in the first line among them. The members of the rest of the Hapan Houses walked behind them. 

The Jedi had been positioned next to the advisers to the Queen, as the honored guest and an honorary member of the Queen’s House, but the rest of the officials around him gave him ample space. Watcher was pleased he had heeded her suggestion for light colored robes. Given all that had happened the court might find itself distinctly out of sorts to see him in his ‘blacks’ as he had inquired. 

It wasn’t that the court was ungrateful at the Jedi’s intervention, but there were moments when matters of a House were matters of a House, and so it was with the court. There was still much to navigate between it and the Queen. 

Watcher wondered how much of the situation the Jedi perceived. If he had been absentminded before over his lover’s spat, Mara’s convalescence had made him more withdrawn. While Arica was formally listed as deceased, Mara slept on unaided and untreated in the Jedi’s quarters. He’d called it a healing trance -- one facilitated by the Queen, it seemed, the eerie song she’d intoned, being some sort of healing chant from what Watcher had gathered. The few times Watcher had checked on the holocamera feeds to see if Mara had woken, she’d found her in that unnaturally still sleep, the Jedi sitting at her bedside. 

The night of the incident, the Queen had gone to seek her consort after having seen to Mara. The exit through the hidden passageways had left him and Astarta at the Fountain Palace’s boundary walls and it had dawned on Watcher that it had been the Queen’s intent to draw him out of Ta’a Chume’s grasp come what may -- that should they _all_ fall there would be Prince Isolder remaining. What precise orders the Queen had given Astarta, Watcher wasn't certain. Perhaps, she’d even had a ship at the ready to take him far away. What Watcher did know is that after Prince Isolder had pulled her into a crushing embrace that bordered on worrying for the safety of the heir, they’d retreated to their apartments. Scarcely an hour later he’d summoned servants to ready the consort’s apartments, which had, until that moment, remained vacant. That had been surprising.

In the four years of their marriage, such a thing had never happened, no matter the disagreements they’d had, and the court had long speculated that the Queen Mother and her consort simply did not have that sort of formal relationship. Prince Isolder had equally dismissed Astarta, petitioning for two other guards, and Watcher recognized then that the Prince was _furious_.

All of it was baffling. Why would the Prince be that vexed? Had it been because the Queen had shown her powers? Would he have wanted the court to perish? That made no sense. He, more that anyone should know that for all the difficulties between the Queen and her court, the fact that she had taken up a union with the Prince had cemented her role as the court’s protector come what may. This was one of the rare moments where appearances counted for less than reality. Now the court knew who their Queen was and adjustments were to be made accordingly. 

Watcher wondered if the Queen had disclosed to the Prince the issue of the heir. Might that have something to do with it? It couldn’t possibly be that she had sent him away with Astarta. If anything, ensuring his protection was the clearest demonstration of the Queen’s attachment. She would risk herself and, most shockingly, her House's own heir, but not her consort.

The fact of the matter was that Prince Isolder had sought shelter in his own apartments and kept a cold distance while the Queen worked on the multitude of affairs following the incident. There were, after all, bereaved families to meet with and comfort, details of appropriate ceremony and rites to decide. The Queen did it all by herself with a handful of advisers, Watcher among them. The previous night, it was Watcher herself that had to intervene as the hours lengthened.

“Masters of Ceremony,” she had begun, aware of the Queen’s increasingly drawn expression. “I do think this has been quite enough for tonight. All the relevant details have been decided. I am sure Her Majesty is quite confident in your judgement from this point forward.”

The Queen’s eyes had fixed on her in surprise. “I can go on for a bit longer, Watcher.” 

“But Her Majesty does not need to.” Watcher had pinned the advisers with a sharp look. “If any matters of importance come up, inform me, otherwise the ceremony will go as planned. Tomorrow will be a long day and the hour is already quite late.”

The advisers had bowed their heads and retired shortly after. Watcher was about to call for the servants to ready the Queen’s bedchambers when the Queen spoke.

“Is it the child that has you so uncommonly protective?” 

Watcher had turned to her for a second not knowing how to answer. “Well, yes, I had been wondering about the heir. Her Majesty has reached the point by which other Queens have enlisted the aid of physicians in confirming the heir’s health and well being, but this continues being the Queen’s confidence, does it not?”

She had sighed. “You needn’t worry. If there was any cause for concern, I would feel it.” She had fiddled with the leather strap, her kinswoman's memento, around her wrist. “I trust you need no reminders that your Queen is a witch.” Her gaze had fallen pointedly on Watcher’s hand. 

The Queen was referring to her healing of Watcher's hand. After making sure that Mara was ensconced discretely in her quarters and that the Prince was properly settled in his new apartments, Watcher had thought to go see to what was left of her hand at the infirmary, but a page had come for her with summons from the Queen. Suffice to say the Queen had insisted on taking care of it herself. She had sat, up until the sun peeked through the horizon, fixing every single one of the bones that the demon witch had broken, occasionally pausing to tell Watcher to be quiet just as Watcher thought to protest that the Queen really should rest, if anything for the health of the heir. The Queen had casually commented that even a physician might find it difficult -- it was no small thing to repair all the broken bones of one’s hand. Watcher was about to remind her about the uses of bacta, but the Queen had asked if Watcher was willing to take a leave of absence for her recovery and that was the end of Watcher’s protests.

Above all the Mistress of her Excellency’s Household had her duty, and at this time, her abilities to ensure the smooth operation of the Queen’s House were never more necessary.

“I do not need any reminders of Her Majesty’s remarkable abilities,” Watcher had replied. “But I do think that after so much tumult perhaps the news of the heir’s conception might provide the court with some much needed cheer.”

“I thought it was cheer enough that I did not murder Zeciv Olanji.”

This was true. As part of the surprises that continued to unfold, none other than Ilan Vestas had emerged bearing a stricken Zeciv. At Ta’a Chume’s behest, he had been embroiled with her capture and tasked with her murder. An oversight on her part that Vestas was primarily motivated by self interest and that fearsome as Ta’a Chume was, the Queen had a Jedi who had by Vestas' estimation refused to die. He had decided to take a chance and let her live, bringing her back to court the next day requesting a pardon. 

He was currently in the Well and not likely to leave. Merciful given what would happen to him if he were ever to fall into Olanji hands.

“Yes, but to present the heir is to cement your House before the court. To establish continuity with your rule. It means a stable future.”

“And it is unstable now? Still? I lose friends, I distance my husband, I risk my life, but none of that is enough. I am to also offer my child -- all to a court that does not want me in the hopes it will.”

Watcher had thought that was a particularly cruel way of looking at it. “The child is not yours alone, Majesty.”

The Queen had raised her head. “Maybe, I want something to be.” She had gone back to rubbing her thumb over the strap. “For just a little while longer, perhaps.”

“Before I came here, I had been exiled from my clan,” the Queen continued quietly. “I had made...a mistake. Misused my powers. According to clan law I was to cleanse myself through solitary wanderings for three years. And before then, I had wandered alone too, because of more mistakes. I thought nothing would be worse than that loneliness. I thought I would do anything to be rid of it. I thought...I thought that a person could cure it.” She had smiled crookedly. “I thought it would be Isolder.”

Watcher had blinked up at the Queen. She really was young. “Ereneda, loneliness is built into what we are.” 

The Queen had laughed softly. “You are just awful at comfort.”

“My Queen does not need comfort. She has her duty whenever she doubts, as do we all.” Watcher had softened her voice a bit. “All of Hapes is under Her Majesty’s care. So care for it.” Watcher waved a hand. “What Her Majesty searched for before is immaterial, this is your calling now.” She had hesitated. “Like a wayward child, if need be. Bring the court into your fold. You won't have a better opportunity.”

“And then,” the Queen had mused. “Teneniel Djo will be no more.”

Watcher had only looked at her, surprised she would think so after all that had transpired. “How? This is Teneniel Djo’s court, is it not?” 

The Queen Mother had looked at her for a long moment. 

“Do consider presenting the heir after the mourning period has concluded.” Watcher had gone for her comlink. “I will call for the Queen’s chambers to be readied. For now, rest. The court’s need for her Queen Mother is ceaseless.”

And so it came to be that the Queen walked before them, behind the arrangements towards the lake. 

The procession stopped as it came to the shore.

“Heads of Houses,” her voice rang out. “To me.”

There were fifty or so Houses, most of them women, and those without a female Head had selected a female representative for the ceremony. They dressed with cloaks in their House colors, and broke from the procession to approach the Queen. This was part of the ritual.

“You’ve mourned your House’s dead already,” the Queen said and it was true. Hapan House funeral rites took place as soon as possible. “Now we mourn together.” She knelt by the banks of the lake.

The Heads of Houses had been instructed in what to do. They all reached for the masses of flowers, and walked to the shore, setting them adrift at all sides of the Queen.

It was nearly over, when the Queen stood. She rid herself gently of her cloak leaving it where she’d knelt and took off the rainbow gems from her hair, placing them reverently on the cloak until she stood clad only in her lizard tunic, the leather strap around her wrist. Her hair was loose and unadorned, falling down past her shoulders.

She went to gather the remaining flowers and set them on the water as the Heads of Houses knelt by the shore

The Queen walked into the water. Just a few feet in. All gathered seem to gasp. This was not part of the ritual.

She lifted her hands and began to chant in that strange language and a gentle wind picked up, swishing the water, the flowers slowly arranging themselves into a line, a path that curved gently into the middle of the lake. For long minutes, all gathered watched the slow drift of the flowers, curling around until they reached the center of the lake.

“May the winds blow gently,” the Queen voice drifted up. “May your paths be lit.” 

Movement caught her eye. It was the Jedi raising his head as if he’d heard something. His shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly and Watcher just knew.

Mara had woken.

Wonder that he didn’t slip away then. He stayed on, bowed his head as the ceremony continued, the Heads of Houses calling the names of the deceased. The solitary moon crescent had appeared as dusk turned to evening.

Watcher made a signal and the servants released the fireflies.

The Queen turned back to the procession, an outline to Hapan eyes in the dim light. Fireflies briefly flitted around her. She extended a hand to the procession and several fireflies drew above it for a few seconds. 

A weave of her hand and they dispersed across the lake, pinpricks of light that danced among the flowers.

“My glittering court."

Something about the honorific had a pull that Watcher didn’t understand. It could be the way the Queen had said it, her voice weighed down with emotion. Perhaps it was a spell of hers, or perhaps all moments of catharsis were like this, but Watcher felt a heaviness in her chest. Ever so slowly the members of the procession knelt, Watcher among them, the advisers, officials, and servants of all the Houses until only the Queen stood, alone.

She made her way back into the procession until she reached the Prince only a few steps away from Watcher. Reaching towards him, she urged him up. When he stood, she leaned against him.

“And if you had fallen,” Watcher heard him murmur. “You would have left me with nothing.”

“But you would live,” she replied after a moment, low. “I could not risk everything otherwise.”

He drew an arm around her and she breathed out an audible sigh. 

Watcher drew away from them and away from the procession, lifting up her chime, she sounded it, and called for the end to the ceremony.

\--

Once she and the Queen’s entourage returned to the Fountain Palace and her immediate business had concluded Watcher set out to confirm whether Mara truly had woken. When she turned on the display however, she found the Jedi's apartments empty. Concerned, she input the feed to just short of an hour earlier.

The Jedi was sitting in one of the chairs from the reception area beside the bed, divested of the formal attire he'd worn at the ceremony. Mara was sitting up with several pillows at her back, still clad in her sleep tunic, hair loose and in disarray. At this point, Watcher shouldn't have been astonished to find Mara without the the bruises and scratches that she'd had the last time she'd seen her, but Watcher was, nonetheless.

A tray with empty plates lay on the bedside table. Mara and the Jedi seemed to have been in conversation for some time, and while Watcher found it difficult to get her bearings, she didn’t want to rewind it further.

“...I don’t think it was a problem. I don’t feel it was,” the Jedi was saying. “But it’s something to watch out for.”

Mara considered it. “In terms of Dark Side influence?” 

He pursed his lips. “Did you feel that? In yourself?”

Mara shook her head. “Just unsettled after.”

The Jedi nodded. “Falling back on old habits. The best defense might be offense, but it can make things more likely to spiral outside comfortable bounds. It might be a good idea to tone down a bit of the aggression, just in case.”

Mara nodded. She continued on as if she were drawing from a checklist. “My sustained control still needs work. I don’t know how they managed to get under my shields, the first one almost choked me, and I know the second was closer to your level than mine, but shielding is my specialty...” Watcher spied more than a bit of self reproach underneath.

It dawned on Watcher she was watching some sort of debrief. How strange. But then again, she reminded herself, they’re both Jedi.

“Dathomirian Force users work with the Force differently,” the Jedi explained after a moment although it had the ring of conjecture. “They don’t deal with psychic body splits the way Jedi and Sith have tended to do. They see the body more holistically.” He waved a hand. “It probably has to do with the way they approach life in general, their worldview. How they see themselves with relation to Dathomir.”

Mara furrowed her brow. 

“It’s doubtful a witch could get into your mind, not the way we are usually used to with Dark Siders” he summarized. “But that’s not what they’d be after. That’s not the damage they prefer to inflict.”

Understanding filtered through her face. “How practical,” she replied wryly. “Bodies. My brain.” She made an exasperated sound. “Makes sense.”

“Protecting from something like that shouldn't be hard, but it takes some subtle adjusting since we’re more used to protecting from psychic attacks. And… you were poisoned a day ago and with the other...matters, your concentration was not the same.”

She nodded slowly. “Right.”

“The healing did go well in general,” he offered.

She looked down at her lap. “What a mess.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He took her hand in his. “Considering the stress and your sensitivity…I should have shielded better.” He frowned. “More than that, I should have approached you differently about Vestas. I let my fear cloud me, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. 

“Don’t do that,” he chided gently.

She turned more fully towards him. “I’m not dismissing you. Or shutting you out.” A pained expression drifted over her face. “Or, I’m not meaning to.”

He tilted his head. “What is it?”

She sighed. “We’re crossing into the personal.”

“I can’t divide the two, Mara.”

She closed her eyes. “I know. It’s just…difficult for me when things get that mixed up. I hate fighting.”

In response, the Jedi stood from the chair and sat on the bed facing her, bringing an arm around her. With the other, he stroked her hair back. “I was thinking about the m’onnok.”

A faint smile played on Mara’s lips as she looked up at him. “You caught that?”

“It’s not the first time it crossed your mind.” 

She studied him for a second. “When else?”

“The contest. I didn’t give it much thought then.” There was a tinge of self deprecation in the Jedi’s voice. “I just wanted the whole thing over with as quickly as possible.” 

She chuckled and reached up to cover the hand stroking her hair with hers. “I was trying.”

“I know.” He smiled at her. “But is that how you feel?” He was suddenly serious. “That being in the Order reduces you to a dejarik pawn?”

Mara bit her lip and the humor faded from her eyes. “It’s not about the m’onnok. I like it. It’s...what I’m good at. But maybe that’s the problem. I don’t want to be anyone’s soldier anymore.” She shook her head and pulled her hand from his to her lap and stared down at it. “Or...I don’t want to want to. It’s all confusing.”

It didn’t make sense to Watcher, but the Jedi’s expression had crossed over to tenderness. “For whatever it’s worth, I didn’t train you to be my soldier.”

Her voice was soft. “I know that, Luke. You didn’t train any of us for that.”

“No -- I mean, that’s true, but not you. Specifically. I’ve always wanted you _beside_ me. Every time we’ve worked together no matter what, it just…it feels right. Always.” He gestured between them. “Even without this.”

“But with this…” she mumbled, still looking down.

He reached to cup her cheek. “It could be better.”

Worry flitted over her features. “Or worse.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “If we didn’t care, but we do.”

“I’m...not there yet. To not be just another soldier.” 

“That’s not how I feel.” The Jedi brought his arms around her in a tight embace, his chin settling over her head. “But it’s your path, isn’t it?” He closed his eyes. “As much as I want you with me, I understand if it’s not right for you now.” He let a few seconds pass in silence. When he spoke again note of sadness wrapped around his voice. “Did you want to be part of the Order? At the beginning, I mean."

Mara seemed to stiffen and the Jedi put distance between them to meet her eyes again. “It's okay. We just...never bothered to ask that question. It might have gotten tangled up between you and I after Kun... If you want to go back to Karrde full time, then we’ll work with that.” He hesitated and when he continued, there was a teasing lightness to his words. “Unless you’re done with me…”

She lifted a hand to his neck, expression unguarded and shining when she raised her eyes to him, but retorted sharply, “Okay, now you’re fishing.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know." There was a wry twist to her lip. "Confessions of undying devotion?”

“Undying devotion?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “I’ll take it.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he interrupted her with a kiss. When he pulled away she smiled brightly and shifted further into the bed so he could half recline beside her. 

“Does that mean you’re undyingly devoted to me?” He asked, idly stroking her arm.

Mara groaned and shifted to lie on her side facing away from him. “Stop. I said ‘fishing for confessions of’.”

“Your thoughts betray you.”

“Keep going,” she warned. “I know where you sleep.”

He laughed. “I’m counting on it -- does that mean I can marry you in an embarrassing public ceremony broadcast through the HoloNet?”

“No means no, Skywalker.”

“Really?” Watcher couldn’t see the Jedi’s face anymore since he’d turned away from the holocameras, but she heard the sly grin in his voice. “I thought it meant later. It usually means later.”

She ignored the remark. “You know, Hapan marriage contracts are not so bad. They're so discrete, so...practical,” she began thoughtfully. “House of Jade has a nice ring to it.”

“Oh?”

“And your genes are not bad -- going by your sister, of course. I guess having a little Jade running around wouldn’t be bad either.”

The Jedi considered it. “Could be two. If we’re talking genetics.”

“Oh, no,” she assured him, raising her head. “Your sister already got that end of the stick. Probability is on our side.”

“They say entropy is the basic law of the universe--”

She slapped his hand on her arm lightly. “Shut up.”

He chuckled. “It seems like you’re getting most of the benefit, and as I understand it Hapan marriage contracts are mutually beneficial arrangements.” He shifted to curl his body more tightly against hers, wrapping his arms around her waist. “What do I get?” he whispered huskily. 

“Hmm. Clothes? How many embroidered jackets do you own. Three? Two of them are in sad, sad shape--”

He nuzzled her cheek. “Don’t care.”

She hissed as he mouthed at her neck. “Land? I’m sure Teneniel -- ”

“I already have an estate.”

“A barely developed jungle planet is _not_ an estate, Skywalker. I don’t think it even legally belongs to you.”

“Don’t care.”

She pulled away gently and sighed dramatically, shifting to lay on her back. “I have nothing to offer.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He looked down at her and the sly grin was back his voice. “The _Fire_ is a pretty amazing ship.”

She pouted. “You want my ship?”

“Not really.”

“I really have nothing, huh.” She reached for his hand and put it lightly just below her collarbone, locking her gaze on his. “Just this.”

He looked at her for a long moment. 

She smiled, then shook her head. “You have it already though. Guess I have nothing after all.”

“Not true.” He put his palm over hers. “We’ve traded off. That one is mine.” He brought her hand to his chest. “This one is yours.”

She gazed up at him quietly for a long moment. “You’ve always been better at taking care of it than I am,” she whispered. Her expression grew murky and her next came out in a rush. “I love you. Nothing -- nothing changes that,”she spoke as if she were scared that the words would get lost after being uttered. “Even if I can’t always--”

He silenced her with a kiss, cupping the side of her face. 

“Karrde knows now,” he said thickly when he pulled away, palpable heartache in his voice. “So at least you won’t have to make excuses about fake intel or supply runs. I’ll get the schedule for my next few months settled so we can sync it with yours as soon as you get your assignments.” He laughed, slight and brittle. “I--I don’t know why it feels like this. It’s the same as it’s ever been, and we have that extra week to go somewhere pretty, and far, and _incredibly_ boring so you can complain about it nonstop--” 

Mara shifted, bringing her arms around him tightly as he lowered his head to the crook of her neck. She held onto him tightly, her eyes open and unfocused, staring up to the ceiling, but Watcher knew her sight was anchored in whatever inner world was theirs alone.

Watcher thought back to the Jedi’s conversation with the Prince. What were the lines between volition and coercion when one’s life was indelibly linked to another? Did either exist or was it something else? Watcher didn’t know. She didn’t know about the vagaries of petty sentiments like love either. But she thought _had_ gotten to know what Mara’s attachment looked like, a kind of self dispossession. It had to be leap of faith, however troubled and graceless. She thought, too, of the Queen. Was it not the same for her and the Prince? 

Could it not be the same between the Queen and Hapes?

The Queen had said that Hapes had changed her.

Watcher swallowed. In the Queen’s resolve and in the heir within her were the seeds to change Hapes itself. A mutual dispossession. An odd feeling came over Watcher. Teneniel Djo would be Hapes and Hapes would have her. Nothing would be the same.

On the screen, Mara stayed silent for a few more seconds before venturing slowly, “I haven’t actually said I’m going anywhere. I mean, I still have that Kessel operation to asses after we have that week off…”

The Jedi quickly pulled away to gaze at her.

“This could have gone better,” she continued softly after a beat. “Too many people died.”

The Jedi shook his head firmly. “We did the best we could under--”

She brought a finger to his lips. “I’m not saying that to punish us.”

He remained quiet, breathlessly expectant.

“It’s just…we’re not going to get any better working together by spending most of our time away from each other.”

The Jedi seemed to push out the words reluctantly, “I accused you of not trusting me to deal with the fallout and...” he shook his head, disappointment washing through his features. “You were right to be wary. I...I don’t want you to feel I’m stifling you or taking what you’re not ready to give.”

She reached towards his face. “Hasn’t that always been the risk?” 

He stared at her, seconds lengthening. 

She brought a hand under his chin, a tremulous smile on her face. “I chose you and this life. I just have to...make my place in it. I want to do it with you. Even if it’s not easy. Especially because it’s not.” 

The Jedi shifted and wrapped his arms around her again. For a long moment, they simply lay in each other’s embrace.

The Jedi broke the silence, raising his head. “What kind of story will we give for you returning to Yavin long term?”

Mara thought for a second. “I don’t know. I thought I would just move my stuff to your room and let all the apprentices think what they want. Kam and Tionne know already.”

The Jedi’s voice turned cautious. “We’ll have to go to Coruscant at some point.”

She grunted. “I know.”

“And?”

“Fine,” she growled and shifted to lie on her side again. “Your sister’s media office can plaster my face all over the blasted HoloNet.”

He sighed happily, curling himself around her. “You know, all of this just gets us closer to that very public, very embarrassing wedding ceremony.”

She snorted. “Never.”

“I’ll make an honest woman out of you yet.”

“I’m partial to dishonest, thank you.” Mara’s hand flitted behind her to the Jedi’s cheek. He captured it in his and she rolled onto her back pulling him into a kiss. That kiss far differed from the others, acquiring the kind of intensity that was easy to read. Watcher stretched a hand to turn the display off. 

Before she could, the Jedi’s head came up. “We shouldn’t,” he said resolutely.

Watcher’s hand stopped. That was different. She hadn’t seen when Mara had woken. Was she still wounded? Internal injuries? She didn’t seem to be in any pain. In fact, she was staring at the Jedi with an expression that was equal parts irritation and curiosity. 

“You checked me already.” He hands moved towards his tunic shirt. She lowered her voice. “Check me again. With your hands.” She pulled his head down for another kiss. “And your mouth.”

The Jedi laughed. “No, Mara--” he broke off and Mara pulled away, turning her head to the side to eye him suspiciously. 

“It’s _never_ a no with you.”

Her hands went to his shirt, avoiding his attempts to grab her hands. He finally succeeded and she looked up, bemused. “We can go at it like zeltrons at a spring festival in the gardens but _now_ you’re uncomfortable? Well, tough, I’m not about to let all that overprotecti--”

Watcher’s comlink sounded. She muted the display, absentmindedly noticing that Mara had gotten her hands out of the Jedi’s hold and was trying to pull the Jedi’s shirt off, while he was again trying to grab her hands. She’d pushed him back and straddled his waist. In response, he’d pulled her down for a kiss that had started looking more like calculated distraction than passion.

“The Queen requests you in her sitting room,” one of the maids began on the line.

“Understood. I will be there shortly.” Watcher closed the line.

On the screen, it looked like Mara had broken the kiss and was attempting to remove her shirt, while the Jedi was incongruously pulling it back down to her increasing annoyance. These Jedi's oddities never ceased to surprise.

Watcher turned the display off, heading to the Queen’s residence. 

The Queen was sitting at the Prince’s side, Mara and the Jedi sitting in front of them, both clad in more formal attire suitable for an audience with the royal couple. 

The Prince was looking at Mara. It was strange to see her and the Jedi there after seeing her just minutes before in the display. The footage was from nearly an hour ago, Watcher reminded herself.

“You were training her,” the Prince was saying.

“Technically, Kirana Ti was training her. I just continued what she started.” Mara looked uneasy. “I’m so--”

The Queen shook her head, lifting a hand in Mara's direction. “I asked Mara, it isn’t fair to blame her. She acted without Lu--Master Skywalker’s knowledge of it, as well.” She sighed, looking at the Jedi. “You have my apologies. At the time, it seemed the only course available to me.”

The Jedi looked over at her. “Why didn’t you tell Isolder?”

The Queen turned in the Prince's direction, but then quickly shifted her gaze. “We didn’t get a confirmation that it was a Force user until late. I...I thought he’d question why I did it.”

“Why would that matter?” the Prince asked, voice going sharp. “It’s not like I could ever stop you.”

The Queen flashed him a pained look. “It’s not about _stopping_ me. Without purpose, my magic is simply another barbaric custom of mine, isn’t it?” 

His expression softened. “Teneniel…”

The Queen raised her head, eyes falling on Watcher where she stood, still at the entrance of the sitting room. “Ah, Watcher.” Watcher stepped forward into the room, bowing her head. “Master Skywalker would have a word with you in private.” 

Watcher immediately went cold. In all the chaos, she'd forgotten to approach the Queen and somehow, she _knew_ that the Jedi had found out they'd been surveilled.

"After the attack, I trust that Mara needs no introductions," the Queen said.

"I am aware of the Queen's agent, Majesty," Watcher responded, tipping her head slightly in Mara's direction, but not looking at her directly. "Accept my gratitude for your intervention in the protection of the Queen Mother, her House, and her court." 

Something like a snort escaped Mara. An exceedingly rude noise at any rate.

To make matters worse, the Queen stood up, offering her hand to the Prince. "Walk with me? We have much to talk about still."

Prince Isolder nodded, clasping her hand. They both exited the room, leaving Watcher alone with the two Jedi, nervousness clenching her stomach. 

The Jedi cleared his throat. “I’m assuming that surveillance is standard Hapan protocol.”

Watcher nodded quickly. “The Mistress of the Household manages information first and foremost.”

“You installed surveillance in our rooms,” Mara snapped. “That’s one hell of a way of getting information.”

Watcher brought her hands in front of her. “I was not informed that you were the Queen’s agent. It was a protective measure. I was well aware of the likelihood of an attempt on the honored guest’s life. Who was to say that _you_ weren’t the assassin sent for Master Skywalker?”

A curious expression passed through Mara’s face. Watcher couldn't decipher it. The Jedi put his hand at her arm.

“Allow me to remind you, that you yourself suffered from such an attempt,” Watcher added emphatically, just in case that cryptic look signaled imminent violence.

“And that you intervened.” It was the Jedi's turn to nod. “We thank you for that--”

“Even though it was completely unnecessary and made things harder for us in the long run. But you gave yourself away so at least there was that."

"Mara--" 

Watcher waved a hand, back in her element. “One can only make decisions based on what one sees.”

“Don’t believe everything you see,” Mara retorted.

“Most of us are not magically inclined. We can _only_ go by what we see.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “Hence holocams in our rooms. All right. We’re done here.” She leaned back slightly and her eyes narrowed. Watcher had never wanted to crawl out of her skin more. “You didn’t look at...all of it did you?”

At that the Jedi's hand tightened on Mara's arm, expression drifting towards alarm. "Mara, why don't we just let it--"

Watcher was taking one step back. “Not on--”

“I knew it!” Mara gritted her teeth, clenching a fist. “The whole time we had this _pervert_ \--”

And that crossed the line. Watcher had _not_ done this out of mere prurience. ”Excuse me?”

“I don’t know why I’m even surprised,” Mara went on. “Blasted Hapes and its oversexed--”

The Jedi was shaking his head, looking at if he wanted to crawl under his seat. "Let's just pretend this never--"

Watcher was not about to have her motivations questioned. “That is offensive!”

Mara’s mouth formed an outraged ‘o’. “Offensive? You spy on us while we’re --ow, Luke,” she yanked her arm from the Jedi’s hold. “Easy there!”

He flashed her a beseeching look. "The less said about it the better. _Please_." He turned to Watcher. “Mistress of the Court,” the Jedi said mildly, his face a furious shade of red. “The datacards, if you will.”

Mara continued seething under her breath. “Offensive? I’ll show you offensive...”

“Certainly.” Watcher summoned as much dignity as she could. 

Watcher caught the Jedi’s murmured response as she turned. “We shouldn't tell Teneniel, ri--”

“Are you _insane_ ? No! Absolutely not.”

“You’re not scared she’ll --”

“Of course not!” Mara's moan was muffled as if she were cradling her head in her hands. “I’m scared she’ll never _shut up_ about it...”

Watcher wasn't surprised when upon her return to her quarters after going through her morning endeavors the next day, she found all of her electronics smashed -- everything from her computer to her spare datapad to her personal holoprojector...even though she'd handed over all of the datacards.

Truth be told, Watcher felt relieved...up until she reached for her datapad, the one she carried in her person with her and the Queen's schedules, her meticulous notes on palace business and the like, and found it gone.

\--

The veiled woman who was seen leaving with the Jedi gave rise to a lot of conversation in the Fountain Palace. She wore a casual dark blue halter dress and a wide brim hat complete with a matching dark blue veil that reached down to her shoulders. It was curious -- no one but the Queen Mothers wore veils, but perhaps this had something to do with her association with the Jedi or her identity. She had to be a member of the court, but the Jedi had not been seen being anything but courteous to the Heads of Houses that the Queen had introduced him to and they were all accounted for. Perhaps the Jedi had met her at the more intimate gatherings the Queen hosted after the dinner balls, but the Queen’s maids claimed never to have seen the Jedi there either.

The mystery woman, the techs recounted, had a most...proprietary attitude towards the Jedi’s ship.

“I swear if you scratched the paint, Skywalker.” The tech said that the threat under her voice would have been easier to take seriously if she hadn’t almost crashed into a loading cart, being pulled back by the Jedi in the nick of time. The veil was rather thick, apparently.

The Jedi had laughed and patted the side of the ship fondly, even as his other hand circled her waist with indecorous familiarity. Outrageous, especially for a woman he’d scarcely met a week before. And wasn't this to be a practical arrangement? The servants said he certainly didn't touch her like one who'd taken vows of celibacy.

The Queen Mother had arrived with the Prince and according to the techs she'd said, “I wish you would consider staying longer.”

“There’s a lot I have on my plate right now, Majesty.” Shockingly, the Queen had darted forward and embraced her. So it had to be a friend of the Queen's then. Perhaps from elsewhere in the Cluster? “Did you need to give me this thick a veil? I can't see a damn thing.” 

The Queen had laughed. “It was Watcher's suggestion."

"You're not serious." The woman's voice had sounded more dismayed than angry. "I knew this was a bad idea."

"Serves you right for siding with Watcher about them.” The Queen had turned to the Jedi and lowered her hand to her belly. After the announcement, she’d taken to wearing dresses that accentuated its swell, the pride of her House. “The future may not be decided, but be it a queen or a prince, the heir will have a strong gift and will make a fine Jedi, if he or she chooses.”

The Jedi had smiled fondly. “The Chume’da of Hapes will always be welcome at the Praxeum.”

Prince Isolder had also embraced them both the Jedi and the woman with a grin. "You will announce your nuptials."

"What--" the mystery woman's head had snapped in the Jedi's direction.

The Prince had hastily added. "When they happen. In the future. Distantly." 

"We should get going," the Jedi had interrupted smoothly, pulling the woman along.

"Nuptials? What nuptials?" Her voice had echoed as they ascended up the ramp. "You are _not_ already announcing to the whole stangin' galaxy--" 

This had been confusing, what else would the woman be leaving the Hapes _for_?

"I mean...they're going to find out anyway when it happens. The HoloNet--"

"Embarrassingly public? You're dreaming. And if you're even _thinking_ of trying what Solo tried with your sister, Skywalker...just try it. Try it. I _dare_ you." 

The Jedi's laughter had floated out just before the ship's entryway closed. "Give me a little bit of credit!"

“Perhaps she wasn't a court lady after all,” the servants whispered. “Maybe she was a _maid_. No lady talks like that!” 

“And not just any maid, an _ugly_ maid.”

“Why else would she cover her face?"

"Why else would anyone _leave_ Hapes?”

Watcher let the servants discuss the subject endlessly in their inane ways. Two days later, it was forgotten as Zeciv’s outfit at court proved even more rapturous than anyone anticipated. Watcher was also busy with the preparations for the heir. There was an entirely new wing of the Fountain Palace to redesign to suit a child and there were nurses and future playmates to screen.

She didn’t think about Mara again until she was waiting for the kitchens to finish preparing the royal family's lunch some time later. While the kitchen servants filled the picnic basket, Watcher absentmindedly brought out her datapad, and thumbed on the HoloNet’s search engine, and input Mara’s name. Where, before, the information was limited, a plethora of articles emerged in quick succession along with dozens of images of one Mara Jade, former smuggler turned Jedi Knight, romantically linked with Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. True to the fact, there were reports and images of sightings -- both of them in those dour Jedi robes at some peacekeeping mission in some dismal Outer Rim world, offering judgement at some alien colony, welcoming new recruits to the Jedi Academy, and the like. Watcher looked through the images, not particularly surprised. 

But one caught her eye, grainy, enlarged from another image: Mara alone in an evening gown, her hair swept up, gazing off into the distance. Watcher had never seen her in a gown, and she noted Mara wore the dress decently enough, albeit blandly, but that wasn’t what struck her. In the dress she looked younger than in the first image Watcher had seen of her as a liaison to the Smuggler’s Alliance. Thinner with that sharper cut to her figure, the expression captured by the image seemed to speak of a frail loneliness. 

Watcher read the caption. It was taken at some government function a good three years ago. The full image it had been taken from showed a nearly full ballroom. Mara was a slight shadow there off to one corner, an insignificant speck in the original image. 

“The basket is ready, Mistress of the Household,” the Royal Chef called.

Watcher put her datapad away and took the basket, making her way out to the gardens. Chume’da Tenel Ka was on her belly on Prince Isolder’s chest as he lay on the grassy area with his eyes closed. The infant cooed, lifting her head to look up at some flowers the Queen was making float before her. The beastmaster sat beside the Queen. Astarta stood a few paces away. Several other guards were stationed a discreet distance away. Astarta greeted Watcher with a faint smile.

With a slight shake of her head, but no surprise Watcher noted that they had not put Nicha back in her pen. The young rancor raised her head and, upon giving a delicate sniff confirming it was only Watcher, lowered it again, returning to her lazy doze in the afternoon sun. She had been a gift from the Queen's clan in celebration of the Chume'da's birth and this thought reminded Watcher that she should begin the arrangements for the royal family's upcoming visit to Dathomir soon.

For now, however....“Must you _dine_ with rancors?” Watcher groused as she put the basket down. The Queen was wearing one of the lizard hide tunics she favored when she was not holding court. Alarmingly, Watcher had spied resemblances to them in the cuts of some of the court ladies’ attires this season. 

“Surely, Nicha no longer scares you.” The Prince didn’t open his eyes.

“She doesn’t.” The beastmaster went towards the basket. “The Mistress of the Household joined me at yesterday's feeding.” 

“I trust she didn't faint again?” Astarta asked with a lift of her brows. 

He grinned at Astarta. "She did scream a whole lot though."

Watcher glared at them both. “If the Chume’da is to be raised in the presence of these brutish creatures as if they were pets, then it behooves me to know them as well.”

“I think Watcher rather likes Nicha,” the Queen said with a smile.

“Hardly.” She leaned forward and took out expensive flimsiplast envelope engraved with High Galactic Script that she’d slipped inside one of the pockets of the basket, handing it to the Queen. “This came by ship today, Majesty.”

Watcher made her way over to the Chume’da, who lifted her tiny arms once she saw her.

She plucked the infant from the Prince’s chest. Childcare was not routinely in the purview of a Mistress of the Household’s duties, but the Chume’da was an uncommon child. Watcher looked down at the infant’s gray eyes, so much like her father’s, but with an intelligent gaze all her own. The Chume’da was truly far beyond anything Watcher had ever expected. She cupped the child’s head gently, gazing down at her rounded cheeks as she babbled. Truly, even rancors became tolerable around her. The infant grew silent for a second as if appraising Watcher.

“Ni-cha,” she said suddenly.

Astarta sniggered. “I believe the Chume’da has just confused you with a brutish rancor, Watcher.”

Watcher scowled at her. “All because of these terrible breaches of protocol. The heir of Hapes is to be kept inside the Palace, surrounded by her tutors, nurses, and playthings. I do hope this doesn’t impede her development.”

“I was raised with rancors,” the Queen noted as she tore through the elegant envelope as if it were meal wrapping. Watcher sighed and fought the urge to say, _exactly_.

The Queen suddenly gave an undignified squawk, startling Nicha who growled. Watcher shot a disapproving look at both sovereign and rancor, preparing to comfort the heir, but true to the Chume'da's heritage, the baby simply let out peals of laughter in response.

The Queen continued laughing long and hard.

“What is it?” The Prince sat up and scooted towards the Queen.

“It’s a wedding invitation," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The sappy ending song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iP_yO9CdizE). Thanks for reading, everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the outsider pov tag. I love Hapes so, I couldn't resist.
> 
> 1\. Timeline is roughly post JAT (~12ABY), but goes AU during JAT. Let's suppose Mara finished her training, shall we? Bear with me for bit and I will do my best to fill in the holes. 
> 
> 2\. It helps if you know about Courtship of Princess Leia for background on Hapes and Teneniel Djo. Rough 'n dirty summary for our purposes:
>
>>  During 8ABY (right before TTT) Luke Skywalker goes to Dathomir in search of things Jedi with Isolder, son of The Queen of the matriarchal Hapes Consortium. Hapes is loaded, techy, and isolationist. Hapans are also chauvinists like whoa. 
>> 
>>  On Dathomir, Luke and Isolder run into Teneniel Djo “witch”/ Force user of a matriarchal tribe who claims Luke as her husband, but then ends up with Isolder. They battle some darksiders there called Nightsisters, who have gnarly bruises because Evil Makes You Ugly ™ 
>> 
>>  After the action is done and Isolder asks Teneniel to marry him, the Queen objects. She hates Jedi, hates Teneniel, but Teneniel threatens her. Teneniel becomes queen. In laws, man. 
> 
> Phew. There’s also, well, _Princess Leia’s courtship_ , imperial warlords, and some song Threepio makes up about Han, but nope, nope, and nope. I am leaving out a lot. Link to better summary: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/The_Courtship_of_Princess_Leia
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
